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flDemoir anJ> flDemoriate 



BEING CHIEFLY SELECTIONS FROM 

HER LETTERS 

WITH AN INTRODUCTORY AND 

CONNECTING NARRATIVE 

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED 

BY 

HER HUSBAND 




NEW YORK: NOT PUBLISHED, BUT PRINTED FOR 
DISTRIBUTION AMONG HER FAMILY, RELATIVES 
AND FRIENDS . MDCCCC 



6^x 

3 







59. 



THIS INADEQUATE MEMOIR 

THESE SCANT MEMORIALS OF THE RARE WOMAN 

HERE COMMEMORATED 

ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO HER CHILDREN 

AND GRANDCHILDREN 

IN THE HOPE THAT THEY AND THEIR DESCENDANTS 

MAY THEREBY BE ENABLED MORE FULLY TO REALIZE 

THAT HER LIFE WAS WHOLLY CONSECRATED 

TO HOME AND DUTY 

AND THAT HER NAME, VIRTUES, AND MEMORY 

ARE THEIR MOST PRECIOUS INHERITANCE 

AND A BENEDICTION EVERMORE 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Introductory Memoir, 1835-75 

Birth, parentage, and early life — Her father's life 
and public career — Her early life in Pennsylvania 
and Ohio — Removal to Iowa — Schools, classmates, 
and education — Marriage — Her different homes — 
What her own home stood for — Her household — 
Church relationships and religious views — Work 
in charitable organizations — Work in the Library 
Association — Husband's course of life and em- 
ployments — Her personal appearance, tastes, char- 
acteristics, and traits — Her letters — Their general 
character — Love of nature, art, and country — Let- 
ters to Miss Fejervary, 1872-74 1 



II. Visit and Sojourn in Europe, 1875-76 

1875, Visit to Washington — General Grant — Sails 
on steamship Russia — Visit to Ireland — Cork — 
Killarney Lakes — Giant's Causeway — Scotland — 
Edinburgh — Abbotsford — Melrose — England — 
York — London — France — Rouen — Paris — Caste- 
lar — Daughters at school — Switzerland — Geneva 

— Bern — Lucerne — St. Moritz — Italy — Milan — 
Florence — Venice — Verona — Germany — Munich 

— Stuttgart — Frankfort — Holland — The Hague - 
Amsterdam — Paris. 

Letters to Mrs. Silsbee, Mrs. McCullough, Miss Fe- 
jervary, and Mrs. Bills 81 



Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

III. Visit and Sojourn in Eueope, 1875-76 

(Continued) 

1876, Visit to Italy — Rome — Florence — Naples — 
Castellamare — Sorrento — Pompeii — Paris — Re- 
turn to America, via London, Stratford-on-Avon, 
Leamington, and Liverpool — National Centennial 
Celebration, Philadelphia — Welcomed home. 
Letters to Mrs. Silsbee, John P. Dillon, Miss Fejer- 
vary, and Mrs. McCullough 144 

IV. Life at Leafland and in St. Louis, 1876-79 

First winter in St. Louis — Social life — Second 
winter in St. Louis — Friendships and social life — 
Silver wedding at Leafland — Daughter's lameness — 
Sale of Leafland — Removal to New York. 
Letters to Mrs. McCullough and Mrs. Silsbee . . 176 

V. Life in New York, 1879-82 

Settled in New York — Visit to Washington — First 
Christmas in New York — Longings for old home — 
Visit to the West — Summer of 1880 at Narragansett 
Pier and the White Mountains — Death of Mr. Mc- 
Cullough — Twenty-seventh wedding anniversary — 
Exchange for Woman's Work — Second Christmas in 
New York — 1881, Son's serious illness — Summer of 
1881 at Narragansett Pier — Death of her sister Louisa 
— Journey to Davenport with her remains — Trip to 
Europe for daughter's health. 
Letters to Mrs. McCullough and Mrs. Silsbee . . 206 

VI. Life in Europe, 1882-83 

Sails for Europe, 1882 — Visits Schwalbach and Wies- 
baden for daughter's health — Waters and baths — 
Dr. Langenbeck — Paris, Drs. Warren and Charcot 
— Nice, Dr. Camerer and Professor Volkmann — 
-- Christmas and New Year's in Nice — Friends and 
acquaintances. 

Letters to John F. Dillon, Mrs. Silsbee, and Mrs. 
McCullough 228 



Contents 



CHAPTER PAGE 

VII. Life in Europe, 1882-83 (Continued) 

Life in Nice — Dr. Volkmann — 1883, Mrs. Dillon 
visits Genoa, Naples, Sorrento, Rome, Florence, 
Venice, Milan, Como, Lucerne, Munich, Carlsbad, 
Vienna, Berlin, and Dresden — Husband visits Eu- 
rope and returns with family. 

Letters to John F. Dillon, Mrs. Silsbee, and Mrs. 
McCullough 266 

VIII. Life in New York, 1883-89 

Los Angeles visited for daughter's health — Sojourn 
there in the summer of 1884 — Summer at Seabright, 
New Jersey, in 1885 — Saratoga, 1886 and 1887 — 
Christmas, 1887, visit to Topeka — 1888, Death of 
Mrs. McCullough — Summer at Saratoga — 1889 (Jan- 
uary and February), Topeka again visited — Trip to 
Santa Fe Ramona Indian School — 1889, Europe 
visited by husband and daughters — Summer, 1889, 
family at Saratoga. 

Letters to Mrs. McCullough, John M. Dillon, Mrs. 
Bills, Mrs. Mary Price, Mrs. Mary Reed Smith, 
Mrs. Silsbee, John F. Dillon, John F. Dillon II, 
Mrs. Anna Graham Lord, and Miss Annie Dillon . 313 

IX. Life in Europe, 1890-93 

1890, Third visit to Europe — Accident to Gascogne — 
Carlsbad — Return to America — 1891, Fourth visit 
to Europe — Aix-les-Bains — Cure — Return to Amer- 
ica — Her father's illness — Wedding of son John, 
November 10, 1891 — 1892, Fifth visit to Europe — 
Paris — Apartment at 12 Rue Pierre Charron — 
Carlsbad — Return to America, April, 1893. 
Letters to John F. Dillon, Mrs. Bills, Mrs. Mary 
Reed Smith, Mrs. Phelps, Mrs. Mary Price, John 
M. Dillon, and Hiram Price 349 

X. Visit to the World's Fair, Alaska, and 
California, 1893 

Visit to Columbian World's Fair — Davenport — 
Leafiand — Visits to Mrs. Bills, Mrs. Silsbee, Mrs. 

xi 



Contents 



CHAPTER PAGE 

Wing, Mrs. Barnard, and Mrs. Kaufman — Journey 
to the Pacific coast, Alaska, California, and Colorado. 
Letters to Mrs. Mary Price, Mrs. Bills, and Hiram 
Price .... 390 

XI. Life in New York and at Knollcrest, 
1893-98 

Knollcrest library addition — 1896, Sixth visit to 
Europe — Christmas at Knollcrest — Death of Mrs. 
Wing, of Mr. Bills, and of a granddaughter — Mar- 
riage of daughter Susie — Fondness for Knollcrest — 
Advised to visit Nauheim — Last letters — Fatal 
voyage — Sinking of the Bourgogne — Memorial ser- 
vices — Conclusion. 

Letters to John F. Dillon II, Mrs. Bills, Miss Alice 
Wing, George Wing, Mrs. Filley, Mrs. Sterling, 
Mrs. Warriner, Hiram P. Dillon, Mrs. Hiram P. 
Dillon, Miss Mollie Graham, Hiram Price, John 
F. Dillon ... 406 

Appendix 457 

Index 481 




Xll 



LIST OF PLATES 

Portrait of Mrs. Dillon, Etched from a Pho- 
tograph BY COURRET, TAKEN AT NlCE, FEBRU- 
ARY, 1883 . . . . . . Frontispiece. 

FACING PAGE 

Portrait of Mrs. Dillon's Father, Hiram 
Price, from a Photograph, 1889 . . .2 

Portrait of Mrs. Dillon's Mother, Susan Betts 
Price, from a Photograph, 1876 . . .6 

Portrait of Anna Margery Price, Taken by 
John M. Dillon from a Daguerreotype, 1852 . 12 

Seventh Street Home, Davenport, 1857-67, 
from a Photograph 26 

Leafland, 1867-79, from a Photograph . . 54 

Portrait of Mrs. Dillon, from a Photograph 
Taken at Paris by Emile Tourtin, 1876 . 144 

Portrait of her Son Hiram, from a Photo- 
graph, 1889 164 

Madison Avenue (No. 671) Home, New York, 
1881-95, from a Photograph .... 206 

Portrait of her Daughter Susie, from a Pho- 
tograph by Mendelssohn, 1892 . . . 228 



%tst of flMates 



FACING PAGE 

Saratoga Cottage, 1887-95, from a Photo- 
graph . . . . . . . 316 

Portrait of Mrs. Dillon, from a Photograph 
Taken at Saratoga, 1889 .... 342 

Portrait of her Son John, from a Photograph, 
1898 370 

Facsimile of Letter of Mrs. Dillon to her 
Husband, 1892 384 

Portrait of her Husband, John F. Dillon, from 
a Photograph by Prince, New York, 1899 412 

Portrait of her Daughter Annie, from a Pho- 
tograph, 1892 422 

Knollcrest, 1895-98, from a Photograph Taken 
by John M. Dillon, 1899 444 




xiv 



PREFATORY NOTE 




N this preliminary note is set forth the na- 
ture and purpose of this volume. Although 
printed, it is not published, and is intended 
only for distribution among Mrs. Dillon's family, 
kindred, and friends. 

It is entitled "Memoir and Memorials." The 
Memoir is a sketch of Mrs. Dillon's life contained in 
the first chapter and in the subsequent narrative con- 
necting the letters. The Memorials are the letters 
themselves. The book consists largely of letters writ- 
ten during her six sojourns in Europe, and at other 
times when she was away from her home. If it had 
not been for such absences, comparatively little 
record of her life under her own hand would have 
existed, for she kept no diary and no copies of her 
correspondence, and left nothing in any form relating 
to herself, except in domestic and personal letters, 
written as occasion offered or required. 

The letters begin in 1872, and from that time con- 
stitute, with the Introductory Memoir and a slight 
thread of narrative, a measurably complete auto- 
biographical history, sufficiently complete, at all 



xv 



prefatory iRote 



events, to show her descendants— the main purpose 
of these pages— the manner of woman she was in her 
relations to her children, to her family, to her friends, 
and to society. Unfortunately, letters to various 
intimate friends— Mrs. Kaufman, Mrs. Gantt, Mrs. 
Wing, Mrs. Barnard, and some others— are no longer 
in existence. 

As this is distinctively a memoir and memorial of 
Mrs. Dillon, letters to her have been excluded from 
the text, but a few, or extracts from them, selected 
from the mass of those which she received, have been 
inserted in the Appendix, or in foot-notes, but only to 
the end that her own letters and her own life, and its 
surroundings and incidents, and her own character 
and sentiments, may be more fully understood. 

Concerning letters between friends, James Russell 
Lowell remarks that " the life of a letter depends 
upon the careless unconsciousness ' ' with which it is 
written, and that ' ' a letter which is not mainly about 
the writer of it lacks the prime flavor : the wine must 
smack a little of the cask and have a taste of the old 
wood in it." 1 These observations, so just and true, 
apply most precisely, most exactly, most fitly to the 
letters contained in this volume. They were written 
to relatives and friends— written because the writer 
knew that her correspondents would like to hear from 
her, written in the entire unreserve of family inter- 
course or personal friendship, without the slightest 
self-consciousness or thought that they would be seen 
by others, much less ever be printed, and touching 
things which, simply because they interested the 
writer, she assumed would interest those to whom 
she wrote. These letters, thus originating, are not 
only a true mirror of the writer, revealing her real 

i "Letters," Vol. I, p. 76. 

xvi 



prefatory mote 



qualities and characteristics with photographic accu- 
racy, but the expression has a naturalness and sim- 
plicity which are never seen in formal letters or those 
predestined for publication. The difference is the 
difference between the Hebrides letters of Johnson 
to Mrs. Thrale, and the letters on the same sub- 
ject written in Johnsonese for the public. The writer 
of the letters in this volume never made a special 
study of style, but whoever reads them may observe 
that she uses with precision the fit word to express 
her exact meaning. 

Macaulay observes x that there is no purer or more 
graceful English than that which accomplished wo- 
men write and speak. Elsewhere it is said the Eng- 
lish language can be seen in one of its best phases 
by rifling the mail-bags and reading the private let- 
ters of one educated woman to another; and certain 
it is that in familiar letter- writing women in general 
excel men, as, for example, in the Browning- Barrett 
letters recently published. 

Most distinctly is it true of Mrs. Dillon that le style 
c'est Vhomme, and accordingly, her style, like her 
character, is plain, simple, direct, unaffected, and her 
letters have merits and an autobiographical interest 
that would have been wanting if they had been writ- 
ten with the slightest notion that they would ever 
come under the observation or scrutiny of others. 
The charm given to them by their instinctive and del- 
icate adaptation to the several persons to whom they 
were written, and their general character, are else- 
where i ef erred to, 2 and need not be enlarged upon in 
this place. Quite apart, however, from any merits of 
this sort, the value of the letters to her children and de- 

i " History of England," Vol. I, Chapter III. 
2 Chapter I, pp. 47-55. 

xvii 



prefatory Bote 



scendants, as a portraiture of their ancestor and a rec- 
ord of her life made by herself, is incalculable, and to 
them they will on this ground alone always be deeply 
interesting. In the confidence of family life and of 
personal friendship the veil which hides one from the 
world is drawn aside, and things concerning one's self 
are related which otherwise would never be told at 
all, or told with an instinctive reserve which neces- 
sarily impairs their piquancy and native grace. 

There is a peaceful, serene, often unique beauty in a 
quiet and secluded landscape which affords as much 
pleasure, though of a less tumultuous and exultant 
sort, as that given by mountains, precipices, and water- 
falls. Something like to this is the difference between 
private life and public life. Every life, however quiet, 
would be interesting if adequately portrayed, and the 
interest depends not at all upon the external magni- 
tude of the events or things described, but essentially 
upon the relation of the thing or event, however 
homely or minute, to the person who is the subject of 
the biography, the object aimed at being to convey a 
true image of that person's individuality and a true 
picture of his life and its special environments, And 
in autobiography especially the interest depends upon 
the fullness with which the writer's personality is re- 
vealed and made to penetrate, interfuse, and animate 
the details that are given. 

In domestic life the birth of a child is of more mo- 
ment than the birth of an heir apparent, a Christmas 
festivity around the family hearth than a coronation 
ceremony in Westminster Hall or the inauguration of 
a President at Washington. For be it borne in mind 
that a private life is none the less interesting, and 
perhaps if it could be viewed with the All-seeing eye 
none the less important, because it is made up of the 

xviii 



prefatory Bote 



thousand "little, nameless, unremember'd acts of 
kindness and of love ' ' of which history takes no ac- 
count and keeps no record. Therefore it is that Mrs. 
Dillon's letters recounting the incidents of her own 
career have been collected, arranged, and set in the 
present form, as the best means of preserving the 
memorials of a woman of extraordinary graces, gifts, 
and qualities of person and character, one whose life 
was unselfishly devoted to others and consecrated to 
duty without the slightest admixture of self-interest 
or ambition. 

Portraits of Mrs. Dillon and of the members of her 
family are given on grounds sufficiently obvious. As 
home was the center around which her entire life re- 
volved, illustrations of her different homes have also 
been inserted. 1 

To all of the friends who have furnished letters and 
rendered aid, a special sense of obligation is gratefully 
acknowledged. 

J. F. D. 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
April, 1900. 

i See Chapter I, pp. 15, 16. 




XIX 



CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR 

1835-75 

Birth, parentage, and early life — Her father's life and public career— 
Her early life in Pennsylvania and Ohio — Removal to Iowa — Schools, 
classmates, and education — Marriage — Her different homes— What 
her own home stood for — Her household — Church relationships and 
religious views — Work in charitable organizations — Work in the 
Library Association — Husband's course of life and employments — 
Her personal appearance, tastes, characteristics, and traits— Her 
letters — Their general character — Love of nature, art, and country — 
Letters to Miss Fejervary, 1872-74. 



BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EARLY LIFE 



NNA MARGERY PRICE was born June 19, 
1835, in Huntingdon County, Pennsylvania, 
on Shaffer's Creek, a tributary of the Juni- 
ata. She was the eldest of the five children of Hiram 
and Susan Betts Price. These children, in the order 
of their birth, were Anna Margery (the subject of this 
memoir, afterward the wife of John F. Dillon) ; Mil- 
ton M. Price, a lieutenant-colonel of Iowa Volunteers 
in the War of the Rebellion and sometime United 
States consul at Marseilles, who is still living; 

1 



Hnna price HUllon 



Mary, who died in Chicago in 1872, being the wife of 
the Rev. Robert Laird Collier; Louisa, who died at 
the house of her sister, Mrs. Dillon, in New York in 
1882, having been married to Alfred Sully; and Wil- 
liam H. Price, now of Denver, Colorado. Hiram 
Price, the honored and venerable father of Mrs. 
Dillon, is at this writing, in 1899, still living at his 
home in Washington, D. C, in the eighty-sixth year 
of his age. Her mother died in that city in 1884, 
and is buried in the family cemetery at Oakdale, 
Davenport, Iowa. 

If any parent ever lived in his child, her father lived 
in his eldest daughter. His features, complexion, 
bearing, qualities of mind and heart,— all that makes 
up that complex result called character, —were repro- 
duced in her. After her mother's death her con- 
centrated filial affection and reverence were fixed 
upon her father. She maintained with him a con- 
stant correspondence until her death. She visited 
him as often and had him with her and near her as 
much as was possible . Her last letter, excepting a brief 
farewell note to her husband, was written to him. He 
was never out of her mind. She idolized him, and it 
is enough to say— it is, indeed, much to say— that he 
was worthy of such devotion. 

HER FATHER'S LIFE AND PUBLIC CAREER 

As her father's life colored hers to the end, and as 
these memorials (which consist chiefly of her letters, 

2 



PORTRAIT OF MRS. DILLON'S FATHER, HIRAM PRICE, 
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 1889. 



/IDemoir ant> /SDemorials 



written in the course of family, domestic, and social in- 
tercourse, without premeditation or the least thought 
of their being seen by others) cannot be thoroughly 
appreciated without some reference to her father's life 
and career, a sketch of it, taken from an official pub- 
lication, will be found in the Appendix to this volume. 
In this place it will suffice to say that he was born in 
Washington County, Pennsylvania, January 10, 1814. 
His father was a farmer, and after Hiram's birth he 
removed to a farm in Mifflin County, on the banks of 
the Juniata Eiver. The son had only the advantages of 
an education in small private schools. Public schools 
there were none in those days. His early and marked 
love of reading largely supplied the want of educa- 
tional facilities. 

Like all so-called self-made men, Mr. Price is justly 
proud of the fact that unaided he became the architect 
of his own fortune. In his new home, which he made 
in Iowa in 1844, he was destined to a distinguished 
and useful career. He became successively school- 
fund commissioner (1847), registrar and treasurer of 
his county (1848-56), president of the State Bank of 
Iowa from its organization in 1859 to 1866, when it 
was superseded by the national banks, paymaster- 
general of the State during the Civil War, was five 
times elected to Congress between 1862 and 1881, and 
was commissioner of Indian affairs from 1881 to 1885, 
when, having passed his seventy-first year, he re- 
signed and retired to private life, though urged to 
continue his public career, and was offered, in 1886, a 

3 



Hnna price Billon 

renomination by his party to Congress, which was 
equivalent to an election. 

Some of the details of this prolonged life have been 
given in letters to his daughter. Though intended 
only for her eye and that of her family, they are so 
characteristic, and so interesting to all his descendants 
and family, that a few of them are inserted in the 
Appendix to this volume. The letter of April 9, 1897, 
written in his eighty-fourth year, graphically describes 
the incidents of his leaving the family home, April 9, 
1833, when only nineteen years of age, and of embark- 
ing on his own career. He found employment at the 
small salary of three hundred dollars per year. 

He soon met the woman who became his wife, and 
the mother of his five children, with whom he lived 
for more than fifty years. She was a Miss Susan Betts, 
of Holland extraction and of Quaker parentage, and 
belonged to an Old and, for that time and place, 
wealthy family. She was a pronounced brunette, 
with unusually fine eyes and complexion, and was 
noticeably comely and handsome to the end of her 
days. It was a love match. Her family were opposed 
to it, not unreasonably, from a prudential standpoint, 
on two grounds : his youth— he was only twenty years 
of age— and his want of means to support a wife who 
had been reared in ease, if not luxury. But the wo- 
man's instinct was better than the family wisdom. 
She saw the sterling qualities of the handsome, athletic 
young man, of English- Welsh extraction, with a slight 
infiltration of Irish blood, delicate complexion, blue 

4 



flDemoir an£> /l&emorials 



eyes, and light hair, who wanted to unite his fortunes 
with hers. The marriage was at first without her 
family's consent. In fact, she made a light package 
of clothes, and continuing one of her accustomed horse- 
back rides, she met, April 27, 1834, her intended hus- 
band, by a concerted arrangement, at a place a few 
miles distant, and they were immediately married. 
"Our combined capital," he said afterward, "was 
one hundred and forty-five dollars," and " the union 
was without any mercenary tinge." But a happier 
union has rarely, if ever, occurred. The wife of such 
a man is truly blessed. 

Their eldest daughter, Anna Margery, was born June 
19, 1835, and, as already stated, had her father's 
blond and delicate complexion, fair golden hair, blue 
eyes, and lithe and graceful form, as well as his mental 
and moral characteristics. 

HER EARLY LIFE IN PENNSYLVANIA AND OHIO 

Concerning the earlier years of her life, her father, 
after her death, thus wrote to her husband : 

' ' She was a bright and bonny little girl, full of 
health and spirits, quick and apt to learn, and with a 
retentive memory. She was a sunburst of joy in our 
home. She rapidly placed herself in the front rank 
among the children of her own age and opportunities in 
the schools which she attended. Such opportunities 
as were available she eagerly embraced and improved. 
As a child she had a varied experience. When she 

5 



Hnna price Billon 



was about five years old I removed from Penn- 
sylvania to Ohio, and undertook the task of making a 
farm in the tall timber on the banks of a stream called 
the ' Big Darby.' This life in the woods, with the 
birds and squirrels, my little daughter seemed to 
enjoy and never to have forgotten in after life. One 
year of hard work, endeavoring to subdue a forest of 
heavy timber and make the wilderness blossom as a 
rose, satisfied my ambition in that respect, and the 
next spring found me. with my little family, wending 
my way back to the hills and valleys of Pennsylvania. 
This journey to and from Ohio, with some of the 
scenes and associations of our cabin home, my daugh- 
ter held in vivid remembrance, and seemed to enjoy, 
contrasting them with those of her later life. u"e 
had several talks about making a visit to our old Ohio 
home: but the tune for that visit never came, and now 
never will. Although her sun of life's little day sank 
behind the western horizon when only a little past the 
meridian hour, yet she was the oldest of a family of 
five children, and she had lived to close the eyes in 
their last sleep, and to attend to the last sad rites of 
affection, at the death-bed of her mother and both of 
her sisters, and then to close her own earthly career in 
the unexpected and awful calamity of shipwreck on 
the ocean, where, with hundreds of others, her lamp 
of life went out. to be relighted only on the other shore, 
in that bright clime where sickness and sorrow, pain 
and death, are felt and feared no more." 
Some further details may be given. 
6 



PORTRAIT OF MRS. DILLON'S MOTHER, SUSAN BETTS PRICE, 
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 1876. 



/iDemoir an& flDemorfate 



Four or five years of the hardest work and strict- 
est economy on the part of Mr. Price had resulted in 
the accumulation of enough money to buy a tract 
of land in Ohio, on the Big Darby, not many miles 
from Columbus, the same mentioned above in his 
letter. To this place, in 1840, Mr. Price removed 
with his family, then consisting of his wife, his 
daughter Anna Margery, and his son Milton— the 
"Buzz" of the family letters. The tract was 
heavily timbered, and a home had to be made by 
felling the trees, erecting a house, and clearing 
the land for cultivation. This Mr. Price did, un- 
aided, with his own hands. More energy, hard 
work, and privations have rarely been expended and 
endured by the pioneer, and all, as it chanced, to no 
advantage. Placing undue confidence in his vendor, 
Mr. Price incautiously made the purchase without 
having had the title examined, and the title after- 
ward turned out to be bad. He had built more fool- 
ishly than upon the sand, for he had spent all his 
capital and his labor upon a worthless tax title. 
Here, on August 20, 1840, was born his daughter 
Mary, afterward Mrs. Collier. 

When the worthlessness of the title was discovered, 
nothing was left but to abandon the place; and, un- 
dismayed, Mr. Price resolved to go back empty- 
handed to Pennsylvania and begin anew. He 
started on the return journey March 2, 1841. The in- 
cidents of that journey never faded from his memory, 
and are more than once vividly described in letters to 

7 



Hnna iprtce Billon 



his daughter. One of these, dated March 2, 1886, is 
reproduced in the Appendix, in the belief that it will 
be read by his descendants with interest, as exem- 
plifying his own dauntless courage and energy, as 
well as for its tribute to his wife's unmurmuring and 
cheerful devotion to him and their children. 

He settled himself, on his return, in Hollidaysburg, 
a nourishing town in Blair County, situated on the 
Juniata River and the Pennsylvania Canal, near the 
eastern base of the Alleghany Mountains, and sepa- 
rated from the town of Gaysport by a small branch 
of the Juniata. Here, in the employment of Bingham 
& Co. in their large warehouse and transportation 
business, and as lessee of the Jackson farm, he re- 
mained until his removal to Iowa hi the fall of 1844. 
The rear portion of the premises occupied by the 
family in Hollidaysburg bordered upon the small 
creek which ran between that place and Gays- 
port. The brick house, the stream which she often 
waded across barefoot, the pastimes upon its banks, 
the Jackson farm and the life there, Mrs. Dillon 
remembered in all their detail. 

In the spring of 1889 she had the pleasure, in com- 
pany with her husband, of visiting these scenes of her 
early childhood. On that occasion, in going through 
the house in which she had lived, or through the 
communicating adjoining house, she related an inci- 
dent in her early life which shows her abounding 
animal spirits and her innate love of fun. She said: 
"On a bed in this very room a young lady had dis- 

8 



/iDemoir anb /IDemorials 



played, fully spread out to view, a bridal or party 
dress. I, a little girl of eight years, was looking at it 
all alone with wonder and delight, when I heard her 
footsteps approaching. Quick as a flash I crept under 
the bed, screened from sight by the hanging drapery 
which surrounded it. The young lady, unconscious 
of my presence, approached the bed to survey and 
admire her gown, the point of her slippers projecting 
beneath the valance to within a few inches of where 
I lay concealed. I could not resist the temptation to 
pinch one of her toes. With a scream of surprise, 
she fled from the room, and I quickly made my 
escape undiscovered, and heard her soon afterward 
recount the mysterious circumstance, which she was 
never able to solve. This happened more than forty 
years ago, in the very place where we now stand. 
I see now that I was very naughty ; but I meant no 
harm." She pointed out, on that visit to the Jack- 
son farm, the room in which she slept, the grounds 
whereon she played, and the fields where she was 
accustomed to carry to her father and the reapers 
their afternoon repast, known as the "evening piece," 
in harvest-time. 

She had such educational advantages as Hollidays- 
burg afforded ; and it is evident from her letters that 
she made good progress in her studies, since she 
describes herself at this early period of her life, 
when she was between seven and nine years of age, 
as a reader of the Bible, committing its verses to 
memory. 

9 



Bnna price Dillon 



REMOVAL TO IOWA 

On October 10, 1844, the family started for the 
West, via the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and arrived 
at Davenport, Iowa, November 6 of the same year. 
These dates are taken from the letter of her father 
to his daughter, November 6, 1892 (given in the Ap- 
pendix), in which he portrays his advent to that 
town, and the discouraging reception he met. It 
was then a new place in the new Territory of Iowa, 
Iowa having been separately organized as a Terri- 
tory as recently as 1838. The first white child had 
been born in the county in 1834, only ten years before 
their arrival. The town had been laid out in 1837. It 
contained in 1844 about eight hundred inhabitants. 

As Davenport was the home of Mrs. Dillon from 
her coming thither with her father, in 1844, to her 
removal with her own family to New York in 1879,— 
a period of thirty-five years,— and the place wherein 
the larger part of her active life was spent, a brief 
space may be given to a description of it. It is the 
county- seat of Scott County, situated on the west 
bank of the Mississippi River, at the foot of the upper 
rapids. The river at this point and in front of the 
main part of the city is fully three quarters of a mile in 
width, and free of islands ; but opposite the upper part 
of the city is the high and rock-bound, finely wooded 
island called Rock Island, and opposite the lower 
part of the city is a group of islands. On the oppo- 

10 



flDemoir ant) /IDemoriais 



site bank, in Illinois, stands the city of Rock Island. 
High bluffs on both sides rise gradually from the level 
plateau skirting the river, on which and on the bluffs 
the two cities are built. The scenery, combining a 
majestic stretch of water, islands, wooded bluffs, and 
the two cities vis-a-vis, is of acknowledged and indis- 
putable beauty. From the windows and terraces of 
the two homes in which Mrs. Dillon lived from 1857 
to 1879 this lovely scene was in her constant view, 
and is the subject of frequent mention in her letters. 

SCHOOLS, CLASSMATES, AND EDUCATION 

There are comparatively few written data relating 
to Mrs. Dillon's school life. The schools in Daven- 
port in 1844 and for some time after the organization 
of the State government were all private schools; 
some were boys' schools, some girls' schools, and 
some mixed. Mrs. Dillon attended the girls' school 
taught by Mrs. Prescott (1845-47), that taught by 
Miss Bergen (1847-48), and the one taught by the 
Misses Jones (1849-50); and at one time she went to 
a school for both boys and girls, kept by Mr. James 
Thorington, at the southeast corner of Main and 
Fourth streets, at which the boy destined to become 
her future husband was also a pupil. Mr. Thoring- 
ton, among other public stations held by him, was 
afterward a member of Congress from that district, 
and United States consul to one of the South Ameri- 
can states; and Mrs. Dillon and her husband had the 

11 



Hnna price BUlon 



satisfaction of a brief visit from their former teacher 
after their removal to New York. In these schools 
the usual branches of an English education were 
taught. But in 1850, when Mrs. Dillon was fifteen 
years of age, the Misses Gilruth established a school 
of a higher order, called a seminary, for the education 
of young women. Here she was taught, in addition 
to English studies, Latin, music, and French. She 
continued at this seminary until a short time before 
her marriage. Some interesting memories of Mrs. 
Dillon's school- days and the names of some of her 
school companions are given by her classmate, Mrs. 
Anna Heed Wilkinson, in her letter of October 21, 
1899, inserted in the Appendix. 

Among Mrs. Dillon's more intimate friends during 
her earlier life were Julia Burrows, Augusta Wood- 
ward, Ellen and Fanny McManus, Mary and Maria 
Owens, Mattie Cleland, Lizzie and Maggie Donaldson, 
Elvira Brown, Carrie Harris, Anna and Mary Reed, 
Eugenie Forrest, Mattie Lyter, Maria Higgins, and 
Amanda Cowperthwaite. She enjoyed the special re- 
gard of her teachers, Harriet and Matilda Gilruth, both 
excellent and accomplished women, and who, outside 
the school-room, treated her as a companion. Among 
the few papers connected with this period of her life, 
Mrs. Dillon, by accident or design, preserved the 
following, in the handwriting of Augusta Woodward : 

" Be it enacted this 23d of May, a. d. 1851, that we 
the undersigned do meet to celebrate a chicken din- 

12 




PORTRAIT OF ANNA MARGERY PRICE, 
TAKEN BY JOHN M. DILLON, FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE, 1852. 



flfeemoir ant) /iDemorials 



ner to be given by Anna , now Anna Price, ten 

years from the above date, viz., the 23d of May, a. d. 

1861. In testimony whereof we hereby affix our mark. 

Julia Burrows, Carrie Harris, 

hattie grilruth, anna price, 

Mattie Cleland, G-us Woodward, 

TlLLA GrILRUTH." 

This was at best a girlish vision. The meeting 
thus solemnly arranged never took place. Before 
the day fixed some had died and others were scat- 
tered. Indeed, comparatively few of those named 
above survived her, and there remain of them only 
an echo and a memory. 

Mrs. Dillon received as good an education as the 
place at that time offered, but it was always a source 
of regret to her that her educational facilities had 
not been greater and her course of instruction more 
extended and thorough. She afterward held very 
decided views on the subject of the inadequacy of 
the usual provisions for the education of her sex, and 
it was her opinion that the education of girls should 
be, in range and thoroughness, if not the same as 
that of boys, at least equal to it. It was these con- 
victions that led her, after her coming to New York, 
to interest herself in Barnard College, and to give to 
it all the active support that her other duties, left 
within her power. Her services in this respect were, 
after her death, fittingly recognized by a minute on the 
records of the college. 

13 



Hnna price HHlion 



As an illustration of her character and of her love 
of learning, it may be recounted that when she so- 
journed in Paris, with her children, in the winter of 
1875-76, she resumed with characteristic energy the 
systematic study of the French language, so as to be 
able both to speak and to read it. To this end she 
went to reside in a family where French only was 
spoken, and for a time (al though she was forty years 
of age) attended regularly a French school, " and 
was," she says, in one of her letters, "at first in a 
class with a dozen or more ten-year-olds. Was n't 
that funny for an old woman? " 

MARRIAGE 

She was married in the Methodist Episcopal Church 
of Davenport, November 10, 1853, being at that time 
in her nineteenth year, to John F. Dillon, who was 
in his twenty-second year, and who had been admit- 
ted to the bar, as an attorney-at-law, the year before. 
The ceremony was performed by the Rev. Landon 
Taylor, who had previously been stationed for two 
years as the resident minister of that church. He 
was highly reverenced by the family, and at Mr. 
Price's request came specially from a distant place 
to solemnize the marriage. Years afterward this 
pious and devout minister published, in the seven- 
tieth year of his age, a biographical account of his 
long ministry, which, drawing upon the martial 
imagery with which the New Testament abounds, 

14 



/iDemofr anb flDemorials 



he called " The Battle-Field Eeviewed." In this vol- 
ume he gives a page to this marriage. His relation 
is substantially correct, but his somewhat awkward 
statement that the daughter ' ' Anna had engaged his 
services to perform the ceremony when the time 
came, and that he was now here to honor his pledge," 
often amused her by its implication that she was the 
active agent in all the marriage arrangements. He 
gave them his book, in which he states that from 
1853 to 1881 he " has numbered them with his warm- 
est friends," and that " true friendship never dies " ; 
and Mrs. Dillon, when in Los Angeles, California, in 
1884, speaks in one of her letters of a visit— the last 
—from this excellent and venerable man, then over 
seventy-two years of age, and who has since passed 
to his immortal reward and inheritance. 

HER DIFFERENT HOMES 

Home is so important in the life of woman, wife, 
and mother that a short description of Mrs. Dillon's 
different homes will make many of the allusions in 
her letters more intelligible. Letters cannot be fully 
appreciated and enjoyed unless the surroundings of 
the writer, the place from which and the persons to 
whom they are written, are known to the reader. 
Such surroundings constitute the setting of letters. 
To have their full interest the letters must bring those 
who read them into immediate contact with the writer 
as an actual personage, and not with a cold, chiseled 

15 



Hnna price Billon 



bust of marble. In this way only can letters be in- 
vested with a human interest, pulsating with the life 
of their author. A personal interest felt in the author 
naturally communicates itself to what he writes. For 
these reasons it is that the illustrations in this volume 
and some of the details of this chapter are given. 

The first home of Mrs. Dillon after her marriage 
was in a house belonging to her husband in Daven- 
port, near the corner of Third and Rock Island streets. 
In it her eldest son, Hiram, was born, in 1855. (He 
is usually called " Hymie " in these letters.) The 
house no longer exists. 

Her second home was in the same city, near the 
corner of Seventh and Brady streets, adjoining her 
father's residence. It was built by her husband after 
his marriage, was a double two-story brick house, 
situated near the top of the bluff, commanding a fine 
view of the Mississippi River for miles up and down, 
of the island of Rock Island, and of the cities of Rock 
Island and Davenport. Here she resided from 1857 
to 1867, and in it were born a son, Sidney, who died 
in the second year of his age, and her daughters, 
Susie and Annie. This house is still standing. 

Her third home is known in her letters as ' ' Leaf- 
land." Here she lived from 1867 to 1879. It was 
here, November 12, 1878, that she celebrated her sil- 
ver wedding, described in one of her letters. It was 
situated within the corporate limits of the city of Dav- 
enport, and consisted of sixteen acres of wooded land 
lying on the bluff and extending down the side of the 

16 



/iDemofr an& /IDemorials 



hill to the plain below, in the front and rear of which 
were streets leading to the thickly settled portions of 
the city. Half-way down the hill a tongue of level land 
forming a natural building-site projected itself, on 
which the residence mansion was erected after plans 
designed by herself. It was a commodious house, 
with a conservatory for plants and flowers, and was 
surrounded by fine walnut, hickory, oak, and other 
native trees, and from the verandas and terraces the 
eye took in both cities and the majestic river, with its 
islands and bluffs on both sides for a reach of many 
miles. Here, in 1868, her son John, the -■ Pod " and 
"Poddie" of her letters, was born. Her friends, 
Mrs. Putnam, Mrs. Grlaspbell, Mrs. McManus, Mrs. 
Davenport, and Miss Fejervary, lived on adjacent 
places. Her fondness for the country, for flowers, 
fruit, lawns, domestic animals, and all that belongs 
to country life, led her personally to select the site of 
this home, to plan the house and improvements, and 
actively to supervise their execution. She sought for 
a time a fit name for the new place without any result. 
One autumn day, however, on finding the small ra- 
vine back of the house and the adjoining land deeply 
covered with leaves, she exclaimed: "I have found 
my name at last! ' Leafland ' let it be." x 

1 The following letter, relating mainly to Leafland, written by her 
husband to Mrs. Dillon in 1876, when she was in Europe, seems not in- 
appropriate to be given in this place : 

" Leafland, May 30, 1876. 
" My dear Wife : 

"I arrived in Davenport on last night's train, and this morning I 
came down here, bag and baggage, this consisting of the famous 

17 



anna iprtce Dillon 



Leafland was sold late in the year 1878, prepara- 
tory to an intended removal to St. Louis, where the 
official duties of her husband required him to spend 
much of his time, and which, being central to his cir- 
cuit, would be much more convenient to him and 
enable him to be with his family two or three months 
more of the year than at Davenport, where no terms of 
his court were held. The house at Leafland was some 
years afterward destroyed by fire, and Mrs. Dillon's 
letters describe the sadness with which she viewed 
the ruins and the neglected grounds. But before the 
contemplated removal to St. Louis was made her 

black "carpet-sack" that has so often made the tour of the circuit 
and whilom the tour of Europe. It is more rickety than ever, and 
has to be well strapped to keep it together. I am trying to make it 
last till Eyrnie gets back with the other. It is evening now, and I am 
writing in the spare room. I have not been in town to-day, but, after 
making the tour of Leafland, devoted myself to the examination of 
cases for the Kansas court, now close at hand, and to writing opinions. 
"The place itself, notwithstanding its neglect, is beautiful; and as I 
stood this evening on the crest of the bluffs above our house, and saw 
the two cities, the river, the islands, and the rural and water view 
stretching miles up and down the river, I quite persuaded myself 
that I had seen nothing finer in Europe. The view from Wallace's 
Monument, or Stirling, or the old castle at Heidelberg is more com- 
manding, but lacks the grand and noble Mississippi ; nevertheless, 
although my old love was quite revived, I feel that I must sell it at the 
first opportunity, for St. Louis is more central and convenient for my 
work, and will enable me to be much more at home. Lilacs, snowdrops, 
syringas, roses, are all in bloom, and the cherry- and apple-trees and the 
grape-vines are loaded with goodly promise of fruit. I inclose some 
flowers from the place — a rosebud for you! In pulling the honeysuckle, 
tell Johnnie, I had to fight a beautiful mother bird that was defending 
her young from supposed danger with the utmost courage and devotion. 
I will write soon again. I wrote you Sunday [No. 33] ; let me know if 
it reaches you. I forgot to say that the third volume of my Reports is 
just out, and that I received the first bound copy to-day. 
" Love to all the bairns, and I am, 

"Very sincerely and affectionately yours, 

"John F. Dillon."' 

18 



jflDemotr anfc flDemortals 



husband accepted the professorship of real property 
and of equity jurisprudence in the Law School of 
Columbia University, New York, and the place of 
general counsel to the Union Pacific and Missouri 
Pacific railroad companies, resigned his judicial 
office, and the family removed, in September, 1879, 
to the city of New York. 

The next residence was at No. 716 Madison Avenue 
in that city, taken on a lease from year to year; but 
in May, 1881, they purchased No. 671 Madison Avenue, 
corner of Sixty-first Street, a four-story, brownstone, 
typical New York building, in full view of Central 
Park, and in which, with the exception of summers 
and occasional absences, Mrs. Dillon continued to 
live until 1895. In 1887 and afterward she had a 
summer home, No. 704 North Broadway, Saratoga. 

In 1894 was begun and in 1895 was completed the 
house in which she resided until her death. It is 
situated about forty miles from New York city, on an 
estate of over one hundred acres, at Far Hills, New 
Jersey, a station on the Lackawanna Eailway, near 
Bernardsville. This house was likewise planned and 
the grounds laid out by Mrs. Dillon, who, so far as 
her health permitted, looked after every detail of 
construction and planting, a work in which, despite 
its many annoyances, she delighted. The place was 
first called by her ' ' Knollcrof t " ; but learning that 
another estate in the vicinity bore the same name, she 
changed it to " Knollcrest "—appropriately so, as the 
house is situated upon the crest of a knoll, which 

19 



Hnna price Billon 



gives an extensive view of the distant mountains 
and intervening valleys. Knollcrest is in the midst 
of a picturesque hill region, intersected by fertile 
valleys. It was at first intended only for a sum- 
mer residence, but she soon found herself unequal to 
the cares of two houses, and determined to make 
it her only home. To that end she removed to 
Knollcrest all of the furniture, books, and contents 
of her city house, and in 1898 built, after her own 
designs, the library addition to Knollcrest, which is 
referred to in some of her letters. 

Although during the time of its construction and 
of her residence at Knollcrest her health was more or 
less impaired, it may perhaps truly be said that it was, 
notwithstanding the bright colors in which memory, 
with its fond illusions, delighted to picture Leafland 
and her earlier sojourn in Europe, the happiest pe- 
riod of her life. She enjoyed to the full her turkeys, 
ducks, and chickens, cows and horses, flowers and 
lawns, hedges and trees, and everything pertaining to 
her household arrangements; for she was a consum- 
mate housekeeper. But she delighted especially in the 
varied hill and valley scenery offered to her view, and 
which she was wont to call the Delectable Mountains 
and the Land of Beulah ; for she had known from child- 
hood "The Pilgrim's Progress" almost by heart. 
Above all, she delighted in the gorgeous sunsets of 
this region, in which the mountains were either etched 
with cameo-like distinctness against the western hori- 
zon, or bathed in a soft purple haze amid the burning 

20 



/IDemoir ant) flDemodals 



splendors of the descending sun, prefiguring, to her 
lively faith, as she often said, the unseen beauties of 
the world invisible, which seemed to lie just behind 
this gloriously illuminated curtain. 

This was intended to be her final home, and she 
hoped that her life would be prolonged so that she 
might, some five or six years distant, have and hold 
therein her golden wedding. How deeply and dearly 
she loved the place she often expressed, and it was 
known to all who knew her. Thus, on the Thurs- 
day evening preceding the Saturday on which she 
sailed on her fatal voyage, in a parting note to her 
neighbor, Mrs. Mary Eeeve Schley, after thanking 
her for a book, and regretting that she had not seen 
her once more before leaving, she said: "Kiss your 
sweet-faced Olive for me, and give her the love of a 
middle-aged woman who understands childhood and 
children"; and, replying to Mrs. Schley's kindly ex- 
pressed hope that she would be benefited by her 
"cure' 1 and be home next year, Mrs. Dillon said: 
"I shall pray silently to my Heavenly Father that 
He may permit me to return to Far Hills and the 
friends I love." In this new home Mrs. Dillon had 
formed a special attachment, not only to the Mrs. 
Schley just named, but also, among others, to Mrs. 
Grant Schley, Mrs. Baker, her mother, and Mrs. Lin- 
dabury. So, in the midst of the bustle of prepar- 
ing to sail for Europe, she hurriedly wrote (June 
30) a note to her father, stating that she felt con- 
strained and yet, for reasons given, encouraged to 

21 



Hnna price Billon 



go to Nauheim, Germany, hoping to recover her 
health. In this note, the last she wrote from Knoll- 
crest, so pathetic in the light of the grievous fate 
that even then, unseen, impended over her and her 
daughter, she says: " I regret to go from my beau- 
tiful home, but conclude that by leaving for a few 
months I may stay longer here to enjoy it. Annie 
goes with me to Paris, where we separate, she for 
Carlsbad and I for Nauheim. When we shall all 
meet again only God knows." 

WHAT HER OWN HOME STOOD FOR 

Home means much to every true woman, but to 
no one did home ever infold in its conception more 
than it did to Mrs. Dillon. A marked feature of 
her letters is the frequent reference to her home 
and to her domestic interests. She liked a beautiful 
house, tasteful appointments, adornments, and sur- 
roundings, but this was far from satisfying her ideal 
of a home. In the course of her reading she was 
struck with certain lines from the " Faerie Queene" 
(Book II, Canto XII, verse 32), which, she said, " more 
aptly picture one of the leading purposes of a true 
home than anything I have ever seen. I will extract 
them and use them as a motto for a new home which I 
hope some day to build." She placed the excerpt in 
her pocket-book, where she carried it for years. After- 
ward the house of her imagination was built at Knoll- 
crest, and she caused to be carved in oak, in old 

22 



/IDemoir aub /IDemorials 



English characters, on the mantelpiece of the family 
living-room, the words: 

© turn tbp. rubber bitberwaro awbile: 
Ifoere map. tbs stormesbett vessel safely r^oe; 

Ubis is tbe port of rest from troublous togle, 
Ube worlo's sweet inn from pain & wearisome turmovje. 

But, to her, home was not only a port of refuge : it 
was a temple, with its shrines and worship. What she 
made her own home stand for and embody, her 
children and her family in all its branches well know. 
It was in general the favorite gathering-place for the 
whole family on holidays and festive occasions. 
There lies before us a letter to her from her sister 
Louisa, dated New York, February 23, 1873, in 
which, on her return from a visit to Leafland, she 
says: 

" If you knew certainly that you did no other good 
in this world, the mere fact that you have such a home 
and make everybody welcome to it, and that to so 
many persons the being at your home means complete 
rest, comfort, and a happy time, ought to satisfy you 
with living." 

When, in 1872, her sister Mary died, she was buried 
from Leafland, and there her four children found a 
home until other provision was made for them by 
their father. So, in 1874, when her brother Milton 
lost his wife, he wrote to his sister, Mrs. Dillon, in 
respect of his motherless daughter Susie : 

u My wife is gone, and suddenly —heart-disease. . . . 
23 



Hnna price Billon 



She often told me she wanted Susie to go and stay 
with you awhile if anything should happen to her. 
... I need not ask you to open your heart and arms 
to her child ; you will do it doubly, for she loved you. 
. . . Oh, what a loss! I will see you soon some day, 
and oh ! I pray you, for her sake, fold Susie to your 
breast.' ' 

And soon afterward he wrote again : 

"You will understand fully that I have put my 
Susie entirely under your charge, without any reser- 
vation, first, because her dear mother often expressed 
a wish that she might be confided to you ; second, you 
were the first to offer her a home; and third, because 
I don't know where she would be better. ... If her 
mother's gentle eyes can see you, how full and tender 
must be her gratitude for your kindness! " 

And this daughter she reared with the same loving 
kindness and care that she did her own. And so 
again, when, in 1882, her sister Louisa died, Mrs. Dillon, 
out of love for her memory, took her son William into 
her house, and gave him a home for years, bringing 
him up in all respects as one of her own children. 

One of Mrs. Dillon's letters relates that in 1876 she 
traveled in Europe and brought home with her seven 
children, three of whom were those of her two deceased 
sisters. These incidents in her family history are 
here set down not only to show what Mrs. Dillon 
made her home to stand for, but also to bring out, 
albeit so dimly, the motherhood of her nature, which, 
in its intensity and manifestations, was so profound 

24 



/IDemoir anfc /IDemoriate 



and lovely that it surrounds her memory with an 
aureola of unfading beauty. 

Her love for her own children forms the warp and 
woof of so many of her letters that it needs no special 
emphasis in this place. In addition to what her let- 
ters reveal, it is sufficient here to state that this love 
knew no bounds or depths. It was perennial, having 
its roots in the deepest recesses of her nature. Skilled 
in needlework, she made with her own hands or em- 
broidered the garments of her young children; these 
she carefully preserved, and some of them still exist. 
While her children were young she gave herself up 
almost wholly to their education and rearing. She 
would never leave for a night a babe or young child. 
In the defense of her children and their rights she had 
the courage and fierceness of a lioness ; in her loving 
care of them the tenderest and most uncomplaining 
devotion. To her dear daughter Annie, who perished 
with her, she gave, as these letters show, anxious 
years of the most self-sacrificing care, and thus 
learned, as she often declared, to appreciate more 
fully than would otherwise have been possible that 
daughter's charming personality and noble qualities 
of mind and heart. But Mrs. Dillon did not confine 
her love of children to her own. Children love those 
who love them; and all children instinctively loved 
her. She had a positive genius for interesting them, 
and an infantile vocabulary which was absolutely 
original. 

It is in part because she so unreservedly gave her-- 
25 



Hnna price Dillon 



self up to her growing children that we have during 
this period fewer memorials, under her own hand, 
concerning herself, than at later stages of her life. 

HER HOUSEHOLD 

She was regnant in her home, maintaining discipline 
among her children and in every department of her 
household. She was no dreamer or idler. On the con- 
trary, she had practical talents and executive ability 
of a high order. She was, moreover, an accomplished 
housekeeper. She knew every article of every kind 
in her house, though numbering thousands, and 
knew just where each was. She knew the separate 
contents of every bureau, trunk, and closet. Some 
passages appear in her printed letters in which, when 
in Europe or elsewhere, she gives from memory de- 
tailed directions where to find in the labyrinth 
described by her a particular article; and these pas- 
sages, though otherwise unimportant, have purposely 
been allowed to stand to illustrate her remarkable 
memory and love of order. 

She learned from her mother the art of cooking. 
Though she rarely called her skill into exercise, she 
would not admit that any person could make better 
bread or coffee or prepare a better meal than herself. 
On Thanksgiving days and Christmas it was her un- 
varying habit, because it was recognized she could 
do it best, to make in person the oyster-and-chicken 
pie. In one of her Los Angeles letters, in 1884, she 

26 



ZlDemotr anfc jfl&emortais 



refers to her work of initiating her Chinese cook into 
the mysteries of making a pot-pie. These details 
may be thought trifles, and so, if these pages were 
intended for the general public, they might be; but 
traits of character are often as truly seen in small 
things as in great, and presumptively small things 
of a personal or domestic nature are as profoundly 
interesting to those for whom this book is designed 
as larger things would be to the public in a book 
intended for it. 

CHURCH RELATIONSHIPS AND RELIGIOUS VIEWS 

Her parents were devotedly attached to the Metho- 
dist Episcopal Church, and in this church their chil- 
dren were strictly brought up. They habitually 
attended Sunday-school. In a letter to her son John, 
Mrs. Dillon speaks of herself, when nine years of 
age, as " a little yellow-haired girl with blue eyes, 
poring daily over the pages of the Bible, and commit- 
ting to memory its verses by hundreds, once seven 
hundred in a week." She frequently told the reason 
of this tour de force of memory. The preacher, one 
Sunday morning, offered a prize to be given to the 
child who should learn the greatest number of verses 
from the Bible during the ensuing week and recite 
them in the Sunday-school the following Sunday. 
When the family returned home after church, her 
father told his son Milton that he expected him to take 
the prize. Nothing was said to her in this connection, 

27 



Hnna iprtce Dillon 



though she was a member of the Sunday-school and 
eligible to compete. The very fact that her father 
did not say anything to her caused such chagrin that 
she resolved to gain the prize. Even at that early 
age she considered the omission a reflection upon her 
sex, and determined upon a vindication. She kept 
her purpose secret, but every spare moment was 
devoted to her task. She told about the difficulties un- 
der which she labored, having her regular household 
duties to attend to ; but she felt amply repaid for all 
effort when, on the day of trial, she easily distanced 
all competitors— her brother among the number— and 
won the prize and in triumph carried it home. The 
surprise given her father afforded even greater grati- 
fication than the victory. 

This incident, small in itself, is at once a reve- 
lation and a prophecy, and strikingly illustrates 
not alone her faculty for learning and her reten- 
tive memory, but also her energy, pride of sex, am- 
bition, and determination to succeed in all that she 
undertook— qualities which characterized her entire 
life. For years and years she never let a day go 
by without reading a chapter in the Holy Book. 
She regularly attended the Methodist Episcopal service 
until her removal to New York. In this city she 
first attended the church of her revered friend, the 
Rev. Dr. Collyer, and subsequently that of the Rev. 
Dr. Greer, St. Bartholomew's. 

Her earlier views as to church organizations, as 
distinguished from religion, were perhaps somewhat 

28 



flDemoir anfc /IDemorfals 



modified as she grew older; but her reverence for 
religion and the Saviour never knew the slightest 
abatement or change. She was never satisfied with- 
out sustaining some church relationship. After re- 
moving to Knollcrest, learning, in 1897, that it was 
proposed to erect at Bernardsville a church to be 
called St. Bernard's, though at the time in feeble 
health, she resolved to attend (and did) the laying of 
the corner-stone, and expressed her purpose of con- 
necting herself with that parish when the edifice 
should be completed. She had arranged to be present 
at the dedication of the church in June, 1898, but 
that ceremony was postponed until after she sailed 
for Europe on July 2. Remembering this and the 
fondness alike of herself and of her daughter Annie 
for music, her husband, with the consent of the vestry 
of the church, placed therein, in 1899, an organ, in 
their loving memory. 

Mrs. Dillon could truly utter the words of the 
Apostles' Creed, "I believe in the Holy Catholic 
Church," etc., and perhaps with a broader meaning 
than is usually ascribed to them. Observe the catho- 
licity of spirit that pervades the letters to her devout 
Roman Catholic friends Mrs. McCullough and Miss 
Fejervary, to her devoted Presbyterian friend Mrs. 
Silsbee, and others, and it will be seen that in her 
heart she anticipated what the world is destined yet 
to witness, namely, that all who truly accept the 
Saviour as Master, Exemplar, and Guide, and follow 
Him, are, irrespective of form of organization or 

29 



Hnna price Dillon 



creed or language or country or race, members of a 
universal Christian brotherhood; and she could, we 
believe, sincerely worship in any such church, 
whether governed by pope or bishop, or self-gov- 
erned. Some of her most valued friends were He- 
brews, and in one of her St. Louis letters she notes 
with satisfaction a body of Christians worshiping in 
a Jewish temple. 

For many years after her marriage Mrs. Dillon 
regularly taught a class in Sunday-school, and the 
present judge of one of the United States District 
Courts in Texas has reminded the family that Mrs. 
Dillon was his Sunday-school teacher in West Daven- 
port, after her return from Europe in 1876. 

Her dislike of hypocrisy was only a part of her 
detestation of everything which was not genuine and 
real. It even provoked her, on a flagrant occasion, to 
exclaim, in her striking way : " I sometimes think 
that the dim religious light of churches serves the 
purpose of obscuring hypocrisy in the pews ! ' ' 

WORK IN CHARITABLE ORGANIZATIONS 

All who knew Mrs. Dillon will remember her com- 
passionate concern for the poor and suffering, the 
weak and unfortunate. Her strong and forceful 
nature was combined with the greatest tenderness. 
She was always interested in the work of benevolent 
and charitable associations. In the Civil War she 
was an active member of the Soldiers' Relief Society • 

30 



jflfcemofr an£> flfcemorials 



in 1869 and onward, of the Ladies' Christian Asso- 
ciation, formed to improve the moral, social, and 
spiritual condition of homeless women. Upon the re- 
organization of that society in 1872 she was a char- 
ter member and one of the ward managers, and was 
afterward, in 1876, elected and served as its president. 
Its scope has since been enlarged so as to include the 
training of poor children in methods of self-support, 
and, under its changed name of the Ladies' Industrial 
Relief Society of Davenport, it still continues its use- 
ful existence. As ward manager, it was her duty 
personally to visit and make inquiry concerning all 
persons and families in her district who sought or 
were reported or thought to be in need of relief— a 
very exacting work, which she most conscientiously 
performed. Many times she brought ill or wretched 
babies and children to her own home, and fed, bathed, 
clothed, and attended to them in person. 

On one occasion, when passing through a poor 
quarter of the city, she heard, in a shanty, a loud 
quarrel between a husband and wife, and the wife 
was calling for help. In response she went in, and 
found that they were both drunk, and saw a squalid 
baby lying helpless on the floor. She seized the baby, 
saying, "You are not fit to have the child, and when 
you get sober you may come to my house and get it. ' ' 
They then made common cause against her; but she 
persisted and took the babe with her. At this time her 
daughter Susie was an infant, and her husband, return- 
ing home, found his wife with a child in her arms, and 

31 



Hnna price Billon 



approaching to caress it, exclaimed with surprise: 
"Why, what is the matter with the baby?" And 
then, on a second look, added : ' ' Heavens ! where did 
that baby come from? " It often amused her to nar- 
rate the incident as proof that he was away from 
home so much that he did not know his own child. 

After her removal to New York she continued, as 
far as her health permitted, her interest in such work 
in connection with the parish house of St. Bartholo- 
mew's Church, and as a manager of the Exchange 
for Woman's Work, and otherwise. In 1886 she was 
unanimously elected president of the Ladies' Hahne- 
mann Hospital Association of New York city, and 
served in that capacity for a considerable period. 

So, on being informed, when in Europe, that Klein 
(an old German who assisted her every spring and 
fall in setting her house in order) was ill, she gave, 
in a letter to her husband from Paris, September 15, 
1890, specific and practical directions to have him 
regularly supplied with delicacies from the Woman's 
Exchange, and sent him a special message intended 
to please and cheer him. 

She took a warm interest in prison associations 
formed to supply discharged prisoners with money 
and clothing and employment, so that they would 
not be driven by necessity to lapse into their former 
ways. 

These may seem trivial things to set down in print. 
Not so ; for what can more fully reveal the real nature 
of the woman than such obscure and unselfish acts 

32 



flDemoir anb jflDemorials 



of personal sacrifice and compassionate tenderness as 
bearing in her own arms and to her own home sick 
and wretched children, and with her own hands min- 
istering to their wants ? Truly in this was she filled 
with His spirit and walked in His steps, for His ex- 
ample was " going about doing good," and His words, 
when He had taken a child in His arms, were: " Who- 
soever shall receive one of such children in My name 
receiveth Me. ' ' 

She always remembered with satisfaction her asso- 
ciates in these charitable societies, and often recalled 
Mrs. Burton, Mrs. Wadsworth, Mrs. Lane, Mrs. Wood- 
ward, Miss Sudlow, Mrs. Peck, and others, and their 
devotion to the work. 

WORK IN THE LIBRARY ASSOCIATION 

From 1874 until 1879, when Mrs. Dillon removed 
from Davenport, she was warmly interested in the 
Library Association of that city, and gave much of 
her time to the promotion of its welfare. Her letters 
contain so many references to this subject that a 
short account of her library work is proper, the more 
especially as her labors were the proximate cause of 
the establishment of the existing Library Association 
on its present firm foundations. Prior to 1874 the 
citizens had established a public library. After some 
years of prosperity it declined, and becoming mori- 
bund, it was, as a last resource, in that year turned 
over to the management of the women, who assumed 

33 



Hnna price Billon 



the charge upon the condition that a suitable room 
should be guaranteed, rent free, for a term of five 
years. Fifteen citizens gave the required guaranty, 
and the women took charge of the association. Mrs. 
Dillon was elected its first president, April 25, 1874, 
and all of its other officers were women, including 
among them her friends Mrs. Peck, Mrs. McCullough, 
Mrs. Wadsworth, Mrs. Ballord, Mrs. Wing, Mrs. Bills, 
Mrs. Ballou, Mrs. Frank Smith, Mrs. Barnard, and 
Miss Alice French, familiar and oft-recurring names 
in her letters. 

Under the new management the association pros- 
pered, and April 24, 1875, Mrs. Dillon and the other 
officers were reelected. In her annual address as 
president, May 3, 1875, attention was called to the 
necessity of the Library having a home of its own. 
On September 22, 1875, Mrs. Dillon sent from Paris 
her resignation as president of the association, on the 
ground that she had decided to remain in Europe for 
a period beyond her term of office, and that the wel- 
fare of the association could be best promoted by offi- 
cers who were at their post of duty. On her return 
from Europe, in 1876, she resumed her active work in 
the association. Acting with others, she finally en- 
listed the interest of Mrs. Clarissa C. Cook, whose hus- 
band, the late Ebenezer Cook, Esq., had some years 
before made a conditional bequest of ten thousand dol- 
lars for a library building, which was not carried into 
effect. On the sixth day of July, 1877, Mrs. Cook ad- 
dressed to Mrs. Dillon a letter in which she stated that 

34 



ZlDemoit an& /iDemorfals 



" your representations as to the condition and work of 
the existing Library Association in this city have been 
considered, and if that association will furnish the 
lot and make such changes in its constitution as will 
satisfy me or the Hon. J. W. Drury that the building 
and the fund thus given will be safely held, I agree 
to recognize it as the beneficiary under this proposi- 
tion." Mrs. Dillon actively canvassed for and raised 
the money to purchase the lot. The original sub- 
scription list used by her was found among her 
papers. The required changes in the constitution 
were made, and on the thirty-first day of July, 1877, 
Mrs. Cook delivered to Mrs. Dillon for the Library 
Association her agreement ' ' to erect on the said lot, 
without unnecessary delay, a building to be used and 
maintained as a public library, to cost not less than 
ten thousand dollars." 

The building was accordingly erected, and the per- 
petuity of this useful association was thereby assured. 
Mrs. Dillon was elected, November 6, 1877, one of the 
nine members of the first board of trustees of the new 
library, for a term of five years. Her labors in this 
behalf were, during her lifetime, recognized by her 
election, February 24, 1879, to an honorary member- 
ship, and were also, after her death, fitly commemo- 
rated by appropriate resolutions of the association. 

Mrs. Dillon always recalled with satisfaction her 
successful work and that of her associates (many of 
whose names appear in her letters) in the interests of 
the Davenport Public Library. 

35 



Buna ©rice SHilon 



HUSBAND'S COURSE OF LIFE AND EMPLOYMENTS 

Some facts connected with her husband's course 
of life and employments seem needful to be stated, 
so that Mr s.Dillon's own life and letters may be more 
fully understood. His law practice led him, from 
1853 to 1858, to go upon the circuit in the adjoining 
counties of Clinton and Cedar. In 1858 he was elected 
a judge of the State District Court, his district em- 
bracing the counties of Muscatine, Scott, Clinton, 
and Jackson, his term of four years commencing 
January 1, 1859. He was reelected for another 
term; but having been elected a judge of the Su- 
preme Court of the State, he took his seat as such, 
January 1, 1864. He was reelected in the fall of 
1869; but before qualifying he was appointed in De- 
cember of that year, by President Grant, United 
States Circuit Judge for the Eighth Federal Circuit, 
embracing the States of Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, 
Arkansas, Kansas, Nebraska, and afterward Colo- 
rado. His judicial duties as State District and Su- 
preme Judge required his absence from home for 
about six months, and his duties as Federal Judge for 
about eight months in each year, thereby necessarily 
devolving upon Mrs. Dillon an unusual proportion of 
household and domestic cares. 

His salary as State District Judge was thirteen hun- 
dred dollars per year ; as State Supreme Judge, two 
thousand; as Circuit Judge of the United States, six 

36 



/IDemoir anb /iDemorials 



thousand . This limited income constituted the greater 
part of their resources, though, after a time, it was 
somewhat increased by compensation for law lectures 
in the Iowa State University, by royalties from books, 
and, to some extent, from real property held at the 
time of the husband's accession to the bench. It 
was a fundamental point in the family's domestic 
economy to be always free from the anxiety of debt, 
and to keep their expenses within their income— a 
result which, in the earlier years especially, was due 
almost wholly to Mrs. Dillon's skilful administrative 
ability. After the removal to New York the re- 
sources, as well as the expenditures, of the family 
were greatly increased, but the cardinal rule of 
living within its means was, as before, inflexibly 
observed. 

Mrs. Dillon's outings, when her husband was a judge 
of the District and Supreme Courts of Iowa, consisted 
mainly in occasionally accompanying him to the 
places where his courts were held, Muscatine, Du- 
buque, and Des Moines, and in visits to her sister, Mrs. 
Collier, at Chicago and the other places where she 
lived. In January, 1864, she made her first visit to 
Washington, Philadelphia, and New York. When her 
husband became United States Circuit Judge, she 
went with him, at different times, to his courts in St. 
Paul (making, in 1872, the tour of the Great Lakes), 
Des Moines, Omaha, Jefferson City, Leavenworth, 
Topeka, St. Louis, Little Rock, and Denver. She re- 
sided in St. Louis for two winters, 1877-78 and 1878-79, 

37 



Hnna price Billon 



as is shown more fully in her letters. During this 
period she made a visit to relatives in Kentucky. 

Prior to 1875, and while she lived in Davenport, she 
gave considerable time to charitable and other work, 
as already stated ; but during the years when her chil- 
dren were young it was to them that she devoted her 
paramount attention. She found time, however, to 
assist her husband, in 1872, in putting his book on 
"Municipal Corporations" through the press. He 
always realized that his itinerant professional and 
judicial life had thrown almost exclusively upon his 
wife the care and anxieties of the family; and years 
afterward, when, in 1894, his Yale University Law 
Lectures were published, he publicly recognized the 
obligation which it created, in the dedication of the 
volume to her in these words: 

A. P. D. 

The years of professional studies, circuit journeyings, 
and judicial itinerancies whereof this book is in some 
measure the outcome, as well as the time required for its 
preparation, have been taken from your society and 
companionship. The only reparation possible is to lay 
these imperfect fruits upon your lap. As to you, indeed, 
they justly belong, this formal Dedication serves alike 
to accredit your title and to manifest my grateful sense 
of obligation and affectionate regard. 

This inscription was pleasing to Mrs. Dillon, and on 
her return from Europe a friend called her attention 
to a review of the book in which the writer, speaking 
of dedications to wives, compared this not unfavora- 

38 



/iDemoir an& flfeemoriais 



bly with John Stuart Mill's, whereupon her husband 
said that his was as much inferior to Mill's as Mill's 
to Tennyson's. 1 

HER PERSONAL APPEARANCE, TASTES, CHARACTERISTICS, 
AND TRAITS 

Mrs. Dillon's descendants, for whom largely these 
pages are intended, who have not seen, or seen too 
early to remember, her, will have a natural curiosity 
to know how she looked and to learn something of 
her characteristics and traits. No attempt will be 
here made to draw a full or finished portraiture of 
her personal appearance. None is, indeed, necessary, 
for her likeness in her early, middle, and later life is 
reproduced in this volume from a daguerreotype taken 
when she was seventeen, and from photographs taken 
respectively when she was forty-one, forty-seven, and 
fifty-four years of age. If, with these before him, the 
reader will imagine that she was somewhat above 
the average height, being about five feet six inches; 
that her complexion was of the purest white suffused 
with just the faintest roseate tinge of health ; that she 

1 Mrs. Tennyson, always seemingly fragile, outlived her husband, 
who died October 6, 1892 ; but, not long before his death, he signalized 
their long and felicitous union by dedicating to her, in these words, his 
last book : 

"I thought to myself I would offer this book to you, 

This and my love together, 

To you that are seventy-seven, 
With a faith as clear as the heights of the June-blue heaven, 

And a fancy as summer new 
As the green of the bracken amid the gloom of the heather." 



Hnna price Billon 



had eyes blue as the sky, and hair fine as unspun silk 
of a golden yellow 1 in the two earlier pictures, the 
gold gradually being replaced in the third picture by 
a silver sheen, and in the last picture becoming of 
silvery whiteness; that her weight at her marriage 
was one hundred and forty pounds, slightly increas- 
ing in after years, but without impairing the contour 
of a form of almost faultless proportions, a carriage 
impressive, erect, stately; and that she possessed, 
withal, a charming amenity, grace, and vivaciousness 
of manner, tempered by an inborn dignity— if, with 
the pictures before him, the reader will supply these 
details, they will give a better notion of her personal 
appearance than any written description, however 
elaborate. Her handsome face and person were set 



1 The picture of Mrs. Dillon at forty-one, given in this volume, was 
taken in Paris in 1876, and on receiving it her husband wrote her, July 
2, 1876, as follows : 

" Before I left St. Paul I received your picture, which now lies before 
me. I can truly say that it is by far the best likeness you ever had 
taken. Your dress is severely plain, but as you are inclined (only in- 
clined, mind you) to embonpoint (is that right?), you look better than 
if your dress was bedizened with trimmings. If the artist has not flat- 
tered you, I must say that I would suppose you were never in better 
health, for the picture makes you look splendid. I do not see that it 
makes you look so very ' motherly and good-souled ' as you suggest. 
I think we could see, on looking closely, some Vesuvian power if it 
chose to erupt. Two days after I received your picture I received your 
letter [No. 35] of June 11, inclosing pictures of Susie and Annie. I 
have Hymie's with me, also Johnnie's, and so I have spread them all 
out on the table for study and satisfaction." 

Mrs. Dillon had a photograph taken in Paris in December, 1882, or 
January, 1883, not reproduced in this volume. It is an excellent picture, 
and by some is regarded as better than, or as good as, the Nice picture 
next mentioned. The picture at the age of forty-seven, a copy of 
which constitutes the frontispiece of this volume, was taken in Nice 
in February, 1883. On its receipt her husband wrote to his wife in 
Nice: 

40 



/iDemoir ant) /ifcemonals 



off by her queenly state and bearing, so striking that 
she could enter no assemblage unnoticed. 

Mrs . Dillon ' s tastes were cultivated and refined . She 
disliked tinselry, gaudiness, and show. She abhorred 
shams of all kinds. This she carried into household 
ornamentation and into all articles of personal and 
household use and adornment. She liked the finest 
laces and dresses of the richest material she could find 
or afford. But all must be plain ; this, she said, was in 
her Quaker blood. She was far from insensible to the 
beauties of jewels, gems, and precious stones ; but she 
would wear them only when they were connected 
with some sentiment or purpose of obvious or appa- 
rent utility. Thus she would wear a ring on her mar- 
riage finger, or a brooch to fasten her collar. For its 



"671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
" Sunday, March 4, 1883. 
"My dear Wife: 

"... This week I received the Nice photographs of you and Annie. 
I was very glad to get them. Both of them are very much better than 
those you had taken in Paris, especially yours. It excels anything of 
you, by far, ever taken. I wish you would send me two or three more 
of them. Could you have one enlarged and colored ? You speak of 
Susie having had some taken in her ball costumes. Why did she not 
send me some of them ? . . . 

"Affectionately, etc., 

"J. F. D." 



Speaking of the Nice picture, her friend Mrs. Kaufman, whom 
Mrs. Dillon first knew in Paris in 1875, says: "I regard it as the best, 
most charming, and most characteristic of all her pictures. How well 
I remember the first time I met my dear friend, and how I admired her 
beautiful golden hair ! Later there was nothing about her that I did 
not admire and love, and as I turn over her pictures, of which I have 
several, each brings to my mind some pleasant recollection, something 
peculiarly her own." 

The picture of Mrs. Dillon when she was fifty-four was taken in 1889 
at Saratoga. 

41 



Hnna ©rice Dillon 



quiet and intrinsic beauty a pearl necklace might pass 
the ordeal of her taste, but it would be like the pas- 
sage of the camel through the eye of the needle— with 
difficulty. She would delight in an antique chain to 
hold her glasses or her watch ; but a bracelet, as it 
served no apparent object, she would barely tolerate, 
and rarely, if ever, wore. Her ears were never 
pierced, and the Oriental or barbaric show of ear- 
rings was repugnant to the Grecian, or perhaps 
Quaker, severity of her taste. She made no objec- 
tion to their use by others, but she wanted them not 
for herself. 

She admitted that she had a weakness or passion 
for rare or fine china and old furniture; but even 
this she kept in restraint, and never allowed it to 
develop into a ' ' craze." 

That she was fond of music appears in many pas- 
sages in her letters. Whenever opportunity offered 
and her health permitted, she went to concerts and 
the opera. She more than once declared: "If I were 
driven to a choice, I would take two meals a day and 
opera, rather than three without it." To her no en- 
joyment was greater than to hear her daughter Annie 
at the piano or her son John with his violin. 

Her love of nature and art are elsewhere briefly 
referred to in this chapter in connection with some 
observations concerning her letters and their general 
character. 

Without being a great or omnivorous reader, Mrs. 
Dillon was fond of reading. Certain books she read 

42 



fl&emofr ant) Memorials 



for pleasure and others from a sense of duty to herself; 
for she held very earnestly that every wife should 
make it a point to keep abreast of her husband and 
children in intellectual culture and attainments. For 
purposes of self-improvement she associated herself in 
Davenport with several friends and formed a society 
called the "Clionian." It met regularly to read, 
hear, and discuss papers upon subjects prescribed 
beforehand. References to this society appear in 
many of her letters, and in some of those here printed. 
Several of Mrs. Dillon's papers are yet extant, some 
of them quite elaborate, one on ' ' The Antilles ' ' and 
one on ' ' Leo X and his Times, ' ' covering many closely 
written pages. As a testimonial of its regard, the 
society, on her removal to New York, unanimously 
elected her, October 7, 1879, an honorary member. 

She habitually read the daily newspapers. In her 
later years, and especially after her strength be- 
gan to decline, she became accustomed to take her 
morning coffee and rolls in her chamber, and much 
of her reading was done at this time. It can- 
not be said that she was intensely fond of poetry in 
general. Burns was her favorite, and being familiar 
with the Scotch dialect, she enjoyed him, especially 
his songs and ballads. Perhaps for a like reason it 
was that George Macdonald's novels were so highly 
esteemed by her, though this may partly be due to a 
personal acquaintance with him which she formed 
when he was a visitor at her sister's house in Chicago. 
On the whole, books or verse descriptive of art, nature, 

43 



Hnna price Billon 



or scenery— such, for example, as Euskin, Dr. van 
Dyke's "Little Rivers," Whittier's "Pageant " (her 
favorite poem)— gave her the greatest satisfaction. 

Mrs. Dillon's character, in its essential traits and 
qualities, will, in the main, be clearly enough seen in 
the letters here printed, and only a few observations by 
way of supplement to them are required. Her cheer- 
ful temperament was bathed in perpetual sunlight, ex- 
cept when temporarily clouded by illness or affliction. 
Her ringing, musical laugh— who that ever heard can 
forget it? She was of a very social nature, but it 
took the form, as her letters will show, of a few 
congenial companionships. Her attachments were 
strong and her friendships warm. She loved her 
friends, and was blind, if not insensible, to their de- 
fects. Like Dr. Johnson, whom in more points than 
one she resembled, she was a good hater, and saw, 
and even wanted to see, no good in her enemies, and 
coveted not their regard. She was a woman of posi- 
tive convictions. Her moral sense was exquisitely 
keen and unfalteringly true. All her conduct was 
regulated by an ever-present sense of duty. Duty 
was her pole-star. It is possible she might mistake 
her duty; it was impossible that she would not dis- 
charge it. In the cloistered sanctuaries of her heart 
it was Duty that was enshrined. No power on earth 
could force or tempt her to do a conscious wrong or 
omit to perform a conscious duty. This was so con- 
trolling a principle of her life that had she been asked 
to dictate an inscription for her tomb it would have- 

44 



/Ifoemotr anb jflfcemoriate 



been : ' ' One who tried to do her duty as God gave her 
grace to see it. ' ' 

A lofty pride of character was one of her most dis- 
tinctive traits. The best society she would have or 
none. She recognized no superior, and, we fear it 
must be added, few equals. Her personal pride raised 
her above all temptation to do an unworthy act. She 
was in her very nature so incapable of it that it often 
seemed to be no credit to her that she spurned every- 
thing that was mean or little or ignoble. These qual- 
ities made her a leader. 

A few other traits not elsewhere referred to may 
be here briefly noticed, since the letters do not dis- 
close them fully or at all. She was a brilliant 
conversationalist, telling anecdotes and relating in- 
cidents with animation and dramatic action. All 
who knew her will assent to this without hesitation 
or reserve. It was often declared by her friends who 
were witnesses to her powers that nature intended 
her for the tragic stage. 

Among other gifts, she had that of repartee in a 
marked degree. A single illustration may be given : 
In 1875 her husband purchased, in London, a travel- 
ing-rug, thinking it would be useful in his winter 
circuit journeys. When the eldest son was going 
away to make his permanent home in Kansas, his 
mother said: "Take with you that rug of your 
father's; he will never think of it again, and it will be 
of use to you. ' ' So the rug was taken. The following 
Christmas the son returned home during the holidays. 

45 



Hnna price Billon 



One day he and his mother sat in her room talking and 
watching his father make preparations to attend court 
at St. Paul. During the packing they noticed him go 
first into one closet and then into another, evidently 
searching for something he could not find. Mrs. Dil- 
lon was the first to suspect the object of his quest, 
and winked at her son. Soon afterward the father 
came out of one of the closets and said: "Wife, I 
can't find the rug I bought in London. I Ve hunted 
everywhere, and this is the journey of all others 
when I most need it." Mrs. Dillon, with unmoved 
countenance, replied: "Is n't it in your closet? One 
ought to be able to find almost anything there, judg- 
ing from its looks." Again there was a fruitless 
search, when all at once the truth seemed to dawn 
upon him, and he confronted his wife, saying: "I 
know now where the rug is. You gave it to Hymie 
when he left home." The laugh which followed 
confirmed the truth of his conjecture, whereupon he 
said: "This proves what Taine says— that 'when a 
woman's children grow up she cares no longer for 
her husband.'" Mrs. Dillon replied: "Judge, for 
years and years I have seen you gradually becoming 
more and more absorbed in your devotion to the law, 
to the exclusion of everything else, but I did not 
think you would ever reach the stage where you 
could not even scold without citing authorities." 

She had a keen sense of humor and of the ridicu- 
lous, and also, if occasion required, a ready and sar- 
castic tongue. One example must here suffice, as 

46 



/IDemoit anfc> /IDemodals 



other instances occasionally appear in her letters. 
Thus, shortly after the Franco- Prussian war, Mrs. 
Dillon and a number of friends went to Versailles, to 
have an old-fashioned picnic in the forest surrounding 
this historic place. A delightful day was enjoyed, 
the party returning to Paris on one of the innumer- 
able small boats that ply on the Seine. When the 
limits of the city were reached, the boat was boarded 
by an officer whose duty it was to collect the tax upon 
such articles brought into the city as were subject to 
the octroi. The officer was very self-important and 
over-officious, and his manner of search was disagree- 
able to the last degree, implying a suspicion that an at- 
tempt was being made to smuggle in a dozen eggs or a 
pound or two of butter. The limit of patience was 
reached, however, when he seized upon a small basket 
by Mrs. Dillon's side, opened it hastily, removed and 
carefully shook each napkin, and then eagerly peered 
into the basket itself. Mrs. Dillon quietly said to her 
friend Mrs. Kaufman, ' ' He expects to find a Prussian 
in it." Though the remark was made in English, the 
officer understood it, and dropping basket and nap- 
kins, he speedily left, sputtering and gesticulating like 
a whirling dervish. 

HER LETTERS— THEIR GENERAL CHARACTER— LOVE OF 
NATURE, ART, AND COUNTRY 

Beyond what is said in the Preface touching the 
origin of these letters, it seems only necessary in this 

47 



Hnna price Dillon 



place to add that in printing them no separate com- 
ment will, as a rule, be offered; but, speaking gener- 
ally, it will be found that they are delightful as 
showing her love of nature, of art, of home, of 
family, of friends, and of her country. 

The oft-recurring allusions to the ivy, to the flowers 
growing in the fields and gardens, and to the flower- 
stands in the cities of Europe, and later to the flora 
of the Pacific coast, as well as her own sedulous culti- 
vation of flowers at home, show how truly and 
deeply Mrs. Dillon loved the beauties of nature. 

During her first visit to Europe, in 1875 -76, she made 
a collection of flowers, ferns, and mosses, selecting 
them sometimes for their beauty or rarity, and some- 
times because found in places of historic interest, such 
as the graves of Sir Walter Scott, Mrs. Browning, 
Theodore Parker, Hiram Powers, the Amphitheater 
at Verona, etc. , commencing at Muckross Abbey and 
ending at Heidelberg. These with her own hands she 
pressed, arranged, and preserved. They are still ex- 
tant, and fill the pages of two album volumes. Among 
them is a branch of ivy underneath which she has 
written : 

Gathered in grounds once owned by Hiram Powers. 
"Ivy needs no nursing. It knows neither cold nor 
heat. It is the plant of immortality. ' '—Tennyson. 

So, on her last visit to Europe, in 1896, she brought 
to Knollcrest vines and flowers from Baden-Baden and 
other places; and when she was in Oxford, noticing 
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/IDemoir anb /iBemortals 



in the chinks of an old college wall a vine which was 
new to her, she plucked a small root, fetched it to her 
hotel, potted it, bestowed upon it the tenderest care, 
and personally brought it alive across the ocean to 
Knollcrest, where, being transplanted, it grew and 
flourished. It was a favorite saying of hers that 
flowers love those who love them, and that no flower 
ever died before its time when in her charge. Her 
taste in flowers was similar to that in dress or decora- 
tions : she preferred the violet, the daisy, and the pansy 
to more showy productions of the floral world; but 
she loved them all. Of these the violet stood first. 
Like the daisy of Chaucer, it was " the empress and 
the flower of flowers all. ' ' She was in ecstasies over 
the heather in Scotland and the Continent. The 
edelweiss, in particular, interested her. She greatly 
admired its unique beauty, and was fond of its liter- 
ary and poetic associations. She gathered and pre- 
served many specimens of it from different parts of 
the Alps. 

She loved not flowers alone, but verdure, foli- 
age, trees, waters, sunshine, clouds, skies, mountains, 
and plains. ' ' Nature she loved, and, next to nature, 
art." This is also incidentally exhibited in many 
letters in this volume. With her the love of sculp- 
ture, painting, and architecture amounted almost to 
a passion. She was familiar with the masterpieces 
of painting in Europe. They were photographed 
upon her mind. She knew just where they hung and 
how they looked. Visiting a gallery for the first 

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Hnna price Billon 



time, her eye would, unaided, take in the great works 
at a glance. An incident will best illustrate this. 
When she was in Vienna, in 1883, a new picture 
by a celebrated modern painter was first exhib- 
ited. She saw it but once, and may never have 
thought of it again until, quite ten years afterward, 
driving, one morning, past Goupil's on Fifth Avenue, 
her eye caught a glimpse of a picture in the window, 
when she exclaimed to her companion, " I saw that 
picture years ago in Vienna! " giving the artist's 
name and the name of the picture. She stopped and 
inquired, and found that it was just as she had said. 
Her letters were not written as art descriptions or 
criticisms, and her references in them to pictures 
and statuary are occasional and brief, but they serve 
to reveal her love and appreciation of art. 

The letters also disclose her deep love of her own 
country, its flag and all of the institutions which that 
flag symbolizes. She was not given to weeping. But 
when, on the anniversary of her country's indepen- 
dence, she found herself in a foreign land, and saw 
the dear old flag and heard the band play " Hail, 
Columbia " and " My country, 't is of thee," she could 
not restrain her feelings. This recalls an incident in 
her life that happened on that day, just thirteen years 
before, in her own country. Her father and his 
family and her own family went, on the last days of 
June, 1862, by boat on an excursion to Minnesota. 
On the way up the Mississippi Eiver, news came of 
the disasters to, or, at most, the doubtful victories 

50 



ZlDemoir ant) /iDemorials 



of, the army of the Union on the James River in 
Virginia. Public feeling was intense. They were at 
the Nicollet House, Minneapolis, on the morning of 
July 4. After breakfast, on going into the parlor, 
they found it quite full, many people from the South 
and others sympathizing with the South being pres- 
ent, and a Southern woman at the piano boldly play- 
ing the rebel air of "Dixie." Mrs. Dillon's heart 
was fired. When " Dixie " was concluded, she imme- 
diately led the way to the piano, though for years she 
had not been accustomed to play, and said : ' ' This is 
our country, and this its birthday, and I call upon all 
who love it to join in singing ' The Star-Spangled 
Banner ' " ; and the walls resounded with the patri- 
otic and soul- thrilling anthem. 1 

In May, 1872, Mrs. Dillon was elected the vice- 
regent of the Mount Vernon Ladies' Association for 
the State of Iowa, the object of the association being 
to purchase and improve Mount Vernon and the 



1 Referring to this incident, her husband wrote to his wife in Paris a 
letter dated St. Paul, December 19, 1875, stating that on the previous 
Sunday he had gone to Minneapolis to take dinner with Mr. and Mrs. 
Barnard — the latter so often mentioned in Mrs, Dillon's letters. He 
then added : " When I was sitting in the Nicollet House my mind went 
back thirteen years ago, July 4, when we were all there. Do you recol- 
lect the woman that played the rebel air, and how we sang ' The Star- 
Spangled Banner ' ? I mentioned the incident to Mr. Farnham, and he 
said he knew that woman ; that she was an ardent rebel and became 
so obnoxious before the summer was over that the proprietor was 
forced to order her to leave the house on that account. Thirteen 
years ! How many changes since then ! Poor Mary Collier, then with 
us full of life and joy, is dead ; you are four thousand miles away, and 
I separated from you, and am all alone at the same place recalling past 
memories. I am a ' Wandering Jew ' with restless feet going around 
my circuit, and for once feel gloomy." 



51 



Hnna price S>iiion 



tomb of George Washington, and to hold the same 
forever sacred to the memory of the Father of his 
Country. In this association she rendered active 
and efficient service during the years 1872 and 1873. 
The letters reveal her attachment to her friends 
at home, especially her co-workers in the Christian, 
Relief, and Library associations, and her love for her 
own home at Leafland, and show how glad she was 
to return to it amid the greetings of her friends. All 
this is plain on the face of the letters, but their nice 
adaptation to the persons to whom they are sever- 
ally written will be more apparent when it is stated 
that Mrs. Silsbee, Mrs. McCullough, Miss Fejervary, 
and Mrs. Bills were all dear personal friends, and that 
Mrs. McCullough and Miss Fejervary were devoted 
Catholics, Mrs. Silsbee a thoroughgoing Presbyterian, 
ever walking in her great Taskmaster's eye, and never 
missing a prayer-meeting or a church service, and 
that Mrs. Bills was a Unitarian who regarded her 
church chiefly in the light of an instrumentality for 
doing good on earth. These facts and the distinctive 
personal qualities and traits of her friends were ever, 
though unconsciously, present in the writer's mind, 
and they suffuse and color and give individuality to 
the letters, lending to each a peculiar charm, en- 
hanced by the naturalness and simplicity which come 
from the circumstance that it was written in the 
freedom of friendly intercourse, for the eye alone of 
the person to whom it was addressed. In a letter 
to Mrs. McCullough she playfully regrets not having 

52 



Memoir anfc flDemorials 



kissed the Blarney stone. But these letters show that 
she needed no such recourse, and that nature had 
richly endowed her with the gift of pleasing speech, 
instinctively fitted with the most delicate propriety 
to the person and the occasion— an attribute of the 
true gentleman and gentlewoman. 

These pages will, it is believed, justify, without 
drawing any aid from the friendship or affection of 
the reader, the following summary of the more salient 
and distinctive traits of her character: When one 
viewed the energy, force, and practical ability with 
which she pursued her duties or desires, one would 
be tempted to exclaim, ' 'What a strong woman ! ' ' She 
herself sometimes, when stirred by a sense of her 
latent and unexerted powers, and feeling the limita- 
tions of her sex, would say, ' ' I ought to have been a 
man ! ' ' But not so ! Her nature was womanly to the 
minutest fiber of her being— tender, compassionate, 
sympathetic, loving everything good and beautiful, 
and, above all things, loving home, children, and 
kindred, warm and stanch in her friendships, one 
"who spake no slander, no, nor listened to it," and 
who felt as a wound the least indelicacy, coarseness, 
or irreverence in thought or word or deed. But, 
with all womanly attributes and graces, she had 
sterner qualities not generally found united in the 
same nature— ambition, energy, a courage that knew 
no fear, a strong and decisive will, a positive hatred 
of wrong and love of right, a devotion to duty and 

53 



Bnna price Dillon 



loyalty to conscience that would not flinch even at 
martyrdom. This felicitous association of varied 
qualities is the dominating feature of her character. 
Any conception of that character is imperfect which 
overlooks or fails fully to realize the harmonious 
union in her nature of strength and delicacy without 
injury or hurt to the one or the other, with the result 
that she was a strong and forceful, but withal and 
over all a charming personality. 

" Those relations," says Dr. Johnson, " are com- 
monly of most value in which the writer tells his own 
story ' ' ; and from this point on her life will be told 
in her own letters, supplemented by a slight con- 
necting or explanatory narrative. 

As this chapter comprises a general sketch of Mrs. 
Dillon's life down to 1875, when her letters which con- 
stitute the greater part of this volume begin, it will 
close with some letters which she wrote, in 1872, 
1873, and 1874, to her friend Miss Celestine Fejer- 
vary. Miss Fejervary's father was a Hungarian 
of noble birth and large estates, but having taken 
part in the Kossuth movement for independence, his 
real property was confiscated, and he, being exiled, 
settled, with his family, in Davenport. He built a 
house in the similitude of a feudal castle, which was 
separated from Leafland only by the intervening 
place of Mr. Putnam. His hatred of Austrian op- 
pression was so deep that, although he was after- 
ward embraced in a general amnesty, he resolved 

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/IDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



never again to set his foot on Austrian soil. The Old 
Men's Home in Davenport was established by the 
bounty of this excellent man. 

Mrs. Dillon's letters to his daughter were fortu- 
nately preserved, and were kindly sent by her from 
Hungary. These letters given in this chapter have 
their origin in the fact that Miss Fejervary was in 
Europe from 1872 until 1874, and they are especially 
welcome because they cover a period in Mrs. Dillon's 
life concerning which few of her letters are in exis- 
tence. They present glimpses of her during these 
years not otherwise attainable, and, moreover, the 
letters themselves (the vital part of any biography) 
reveal in a most interesting manner some of the 
characteristics of the writer. 

The first letter was written just one month after 
the death of Mrs. Dillon's sister Mary, the last ser- 
vices in whose memory were held at Leafland, Miss 
Fejervary being present. 

LETTERS TO MISS FEJERVARY 

1872-74 

To Miss Fejervary 

Leafland, Davenport, October 14, 1872. 
My dear Miss Fejervary : 

Your anxiously expected letter came to me Satur- 
day night. I had been for a few days in Chicago 
with my little nieces and nephews, and upon my 

55 



Hnna price Dillon 



return found your letter awaiting me. I hasten to 
write, lest any delay may prevent my letter reaching 
you before leaving London. 

I need not tell you how often, while engaged with 
my household duties, my heart has gone out after 
you in your travels abroad, sometimes accompanying 
you on your railway rides, other times stopping with 
you at hotels, and again gliding with you over the 
dark waters of the Atlantic, for I supposed you had 
sailed long ere this. Though separated from you in 
body, I shall in spirit be with you every step of your 
journey. I must be with those I love, if not in 
person, then in thought. How kind is the Good 
Father, that He has so made us that, though divided 
by many miles of land and water, we may yet hold 
sweet communion with each other in our thoughts! 
I was much interested in your description of your 
visit to Montreal and Quebec. It has never been my 
good fortune to visit either of these places, but if, in 
after time, I am so fortunate as to behold them and 
all their beauties, they will be to me like old acquain- 
tances, not only from my historic knowledge of them, 
but from your glowing description. 

I do not know of one single item of news that I can 
give you, for my time and thoughts have been taken 
up with other things; but I do not believe this will 
make my letter any the less interesting to you, for I 
think I know enough of my correspondent to safely 
say that a gossipy letter has very little charm for her. 

Being much alone this autumn, I am inclined to be 
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flDemoir anfc> /iDemorials 



gloomy and low-spirited, and unless I have frequent 
recourse to my Bible and good books, I fear I shall 
be overcome by sad thoughts. 

I visit the cemetery often since you left us, carrying 
flowers to the grave of and holding sweet communion 
with the spirit of my dear sister. While there, for the 
sake of those I love who are far away, I have scattered 
sweet flowers on the grave of your darling brother. 

A telegram from my kindred abroad says that they 
will sail for home October 5, on the Ville de Paris. 
No doubt you will pass them sometime this week. 

Give warmest love to Mrs. Fejervary. Judge Dillon 
is at home for a day, between courts, and joins me in 
cordial regards to Mr. and Mrs. Fejervary. He will 
never cease to regret his failure to get to the depot to 
say good-by to Mr. Fejervary the night you left 
Davenport. 

Praying the Good Father that He will spare us to 
meet again, and hoping to hear from you as often as 
that pleasure may be granted me without taxing 
your time too much, I am 

Very tenderly and sincerely, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Leafland, Davenport, January 18, 1873. 
Dear Miss Fejervary : 

Judging from your long silence that my answer to 
your first letter, which I addressed to London on the 

57 



Hnna price Billon 



14th of October, had not reached you, I have decided 
to make another effort to find you and to assure you 
that your letter gave me such pleasure as well repays 
me for making several attempts to hear from you 
again. 

How many, many times since I sent that little letter 
in search of you have I dreamed and thought of you ! 
One dream especially I must tell you of. I was at 
your house (that now looks so dreary and forlorn when 
I pass), assisting Mrs. Fejervary and yourself in pre- 
paring for the reception of some guests. All around 
and in the house was grandeur and magnificence; 
rare flowers bloomed in the rooms, and everything 
spoke the happiness we all seemed to feel. I was de- 
lighted to be with you, and we were chatting lively 
over our employments, running about the house, 
arranging first this chair and that, then giving last 
touches to curtains and mantel ornaments, when I 
awoke. I lay for a long time thinking of you, and 
then concluded to go among the persons with whom 
Mr. Fejervary transacts business, and, if possible, get 
your Hungary address, to tell you of my pleasant 
dream. 

I regret so much to be obliged to inform you of Mrs. 
Hubbell's serious illness. She is lying at the point of 
death with Bright' s disease. Judge Dillon saw Mr. 
Hubbell a few days ago, and he said his wife had 
given up all hope of recovery and was calmly prepar- 
ing to leave her family. What grace is necessary to 
resign one to leaving a family of darling little children 

58 



fl&emoir anfc flfcemorials 



none but God and the mother to whom it is given can 
tell. 

We have the coldest weather that has been known 
here for eight years. One very severe night the 
shutters blew off from a window in the conservatory, 
and I lost all the plants standing near it, among them 
my beautiful callas, just ready to bloom, and part of 
them was yours. I hope it is only the leaves, and 
that the bulbs are untouched and will be quite recov- 
ered by the time you return. 

New Year's Day, I hear, was quite generally ob- 
served. I spent the day in bed, having been attacked 
a few days before with pneumonia. I have not fully 
recovered, but am much better. I thought often 
through the day of you, and if it be true that one spirit 
has power to telegraph another, there were many 
messages of love and regard sent to you. A letter 
from my sister-in-law in Marseilles speaks of having 
seen you, and I almost feel as if I had had a word with 
you myself. From what she said, you are now in 
Italy, enjoying all the beauties of that lovely country, 
while we are suffering all the buffeting of stern old 
Boreas. As I cannot be with you, I have done what 
I could to grasp the pleasure that is yours, and so 
have looked up all the books on Italian travels, arid 
am, in imagination, trying to be in Italy; but it is an 
unsuccessful attempt, —in legal terms, " it is a fraud, ' ' 
—for while I read of "sunny skies and orange groves 
and bowers," I instinctively draw my shawl about 
me, for I am freezing. 

59 



Hnna price Billon 



January 19. Before getting this letter completed, 
I have had put into my hand my first letter to you. 
It has crossed the ocean twice, has been in London 
and returned to me, and begins to wear quite a 
foreign air. I inclose it with this, fully to prove to 
you that this is my second attempt to talk with you. 

If it is not asking too much, write me early. I feel 
that a long letter from you would relieve the monot- 
ony of this dreary winter that I must pass without 
seeing you. 

With much love to Mrs. Fejervary and yourself, I 
subscribe myself, 

Your sincere friend, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Davenport, March 4, 1873. 
Dear Miss Fejervary : 

Your letter came to me more than a week ago, 
while stopping at my brother Willie's house, assisting 
in taking care of little Lutie, who has scarlet fever. 
She is better now. A day or two since, Miss Williams 
of Kentucky came, and I am again at home. My 
first pleasure is to answer your kind letter, and tell 
you, as nearly as it is in the power of language to do, 
how delighted I was to get it. I had been counting 
the days, and, despite all the arguments I had used to 
prevent my too sanguine expectations, I could not 
help looking for it, and must confess would have been 

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/IDemoir an& /iDemorials 



disappointed if it had not come. I had been preach- 
ing to myself about your numerous correspondents, 
the time it took for sight-seeing, the hours that were 
consumed in conversation with and reading to your 
parents; but, notwithstanding all this, I could not 
silence the longing. Oh, if I could only do something 
for you that would, even in a slight degree, compen- 
sate you for the pleasure your correspondence has 
given me, I should be happy! Before me rises in 
gigantic form the question, What shall I put in a let- 
ter to make it interesting to one before whom so many 
avenues for instruction and pleasure are open? But 
feeling that the fact of hearing from your old home 
will, in a measure, commend my letter encourages 
me to take my pen. 

Our winter, though cold, has been a delightful one ; 
never have we had a pleasanter. Occasional rains, 
followed by cold enough to cover the trees with dia- 
monds, which glittered in the sun and brought to 
mind constantly Whittier's beautiful poem entitled 
"The Pageant." Have you seen it? If not, there is 
still something in store for you which cannot fail to 
put you in ecstasies with the beauty there is in 
nature, as well as in love with the dear old man who 
wrote it. 

It seems as if all America were going abroad this 
summer. Mr. George H. French and daughter Alice, 1 
Mr. Collier (my brother-in-law) and two sons, sail 
from New York March 11, and Mr. and Mrs. Frank 

1 Since so well known to the world by her pen-name, Octave Thanet. 
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Bnna price SHilon 



Smith in May or June. Mr. Smith has just recovered 
from a severe illness, and has been advised to give 
up work for the present. They will be abroad for a 
year or more. Speaking of Mr. Smith's illness re- 
minds me that you may not have heard of Duncan 
Putnam's sudden decline. 

Our ladies are making great efforts to organize a 
literary society, with a view to self -culture and mu- 
tual improvement. We are looking forward to your 
return as a great help to us. My reading since I last 
wrote you has been very little, and confined to Mary 
Clemmer Ames's ' ' Life in Washington, ' ' a work called 
' ' Man a Spiritual Being, ' ' and another entitled ' ' Lift- 
ing the Veil." I greatly fear that I am falling be- 
hind, but am looking forward to getting home to 
make up lost time. Remember me to Mr. and Mrs. 
Fejervary, and believe me, with many wishes for 
your safe and speedy return, 

Very sincerely yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Leafland, Davenport, March 26, 1873. 
My dear Miss Fejervary : 

This morning your long-expected letter came. I 
had counted the days since mailing my last letter, 
and thought, if no accident had overtaken it, I should 
very soon hear from you. While at work in the con- 
servatory this morning you came to me so forcibly 

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/Ifcemoir an& flDemorials 



that I took it as a token there was a letter for me, 
and so charged the man afresh, " Don't forget the 
mail, ' ' and was rewarded for my diligence by getting 
just what I so much wanted. It is useless to tell you 
of the great pleasure your letter gives me. That you 
know and never can doubt. I often wonder if others 
are as much infatuated over letters from friends as I. 

Since reading your letter, I almost feel that I too 
have been in the beautiful places and witnessed all 
the gorgeous scenery you so vividly describe. I feel 
warmed and invigorated by its tone, and the cheery, 
balmy atmosphere it brings from the sunny land from 
which it came inspires me with new spirit and energy. 
I have, by the aid of a large atlas, followed you 
through all the cities which you have visited, from 
London to Paris, and to Cherbourg, thence through 
the country to Marseilles; from there I followed you 
to Genoa, and still farther south to Naples, where I 
shall ' ' stop over, ' ' as travelers say, until I hear from 
you again; then I shall take up the line of march, 
and follow you till I have you once more at home. 

Reading after you has had the effect of refreshing 
my memory of different places which I had almost 
forgotten. Your description of the Baptistery at 
Pisa recalls the beautiful passage of Bayard Taylor: 
" Our cicerone, while standing beside it, sang a few 
notes, and it seemed as if an angel lingered in the 
temple, echoing with his melodious lips the common 
harmonies of earth." 

How I should have enjoyed the plants and flowers, 

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Hnna iprice HHllon 



and that you should have thought of me when seeing 
them is particularly gratifying! I have sometimes 
flattered myself that we were somewhat alike in our 
exceeding love of flowers, if in nothing else. Do you 
remember a slip of carnation which you gave me 
about a year and a half ago ? It is now in full bloom. 
The flowers are longer than any carnation I ever saw, 
and of a most peculiar color; it seems a shade of drab 
blended with rose— not striped nor mottled, but most 
artistically blended. The plant is very flourishing 
and has magnificent proportions. "It is a thing of 
beauty," and prized not only for its beauty, but as 
bringing vividly to my mind the giver, my absent 
friend. 

Tell Mrs. Fejervary she may congratulate herself 
on having escaped the coldest and dreariest March 
known here for years. The sun has barely shone 
upon us at all, and to-day, the 26th of March, the 
snow lies three inches deep. Yesterday everybody 
turned out in sleighs, with bells and blankets. The 
scene was more suggestive of Christmas festivities 
than of approaching springtime. It is quite common 
to hear persons meeting on the street say to each 
other: " Will spring ever come? Will winter reign all 
the year ? ' ' Notwithstanding the gloom and cheer- 
lessness of a long-continued winter, no doubt many of 
us have enjoyed the peace and quiet of a contented 
mind, which neither winter's storms nor summer 
suns can affect. 

Our ladies have this season organized a society for 
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flDemoir anfc Memorials 



the relief of the poor. We have over one hundred 
members, and have had donated more than eleven 
hundred dollars. Our plan for best accomplishing our 
purpose has been to divide the city into wards, appoint 
prominent ladies in each one, to visit and find out and 
relieve all worthy objects of charity, and at the same 
time detect impostors. I think we have done much 
good and have saved many a great deal of suffering. 
The ladies took hold of this work with an energy and 
interest never before equaled, except at the time of 
the great Chicago fire. The field assigned me has 
given me plenty to do, and many times have I wished 
for you, for you know there are few in this ward 
fitted for this kind of work. 

Although the relief labors have been arduous, I 
have in this long, long winter found time and oppor- 
tunity to acquaint myself with many books which I 
never before could quite reach. The first I read after 
you left was ' ' The Heart of Christ ; or, The Fourth 
Gospel. ' ' I think you would enjoy it, and I shall take 
pains to give it to you when you return. The next 
was Taine's " Literature." I have found in it much 
to interest and instruct me. It gives one a clearer 
idea of authors and their style, both of this country 
and others, than any that I have ever found. For 
light reading I have read ' ' Only a Girl, " by a German 
author, Miss Mulock's " Brave Lady," and at present 
I am much benefited by reading Macdonald's " Sea- 
board Parish." I think you told me once you had 
read it. Do you remember the sermon to the sailors, 

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Hnna ©rice Billon 



where the preacher spoke of our Saviour walking on 
the water I How beautifully he pictures His solicitude 
for all His children out on the sea of life, and when, 
sometimes, we are ready to die of fear in the storms 
which so fiercely blow about us, He suddenly appears 
to us, soothing us and saying, % ' Fear not ; be of good 
cheer; it is I." It seemed to me I could apply it to 
my own case better than any sermon I ever either 
read or heard. If George Macdonald helps every one 
as much as he helps me, he is doing a vast deal of 
good, and may he have administered unto hi-m an 
abundant entrance into his Master's kingdom. 

Our dear friend Mrs. Hubbell died February 21. 
I am told her last words to her husband, as she 
floated off the shores of time, were: w> It 's all right, 
George; it 's all right." If this is so, we only are 
the losers. She has gained everything, lost nothing, 
Mr. Hubbell still keeps his home and children. Poor 
man! how I sympathize with him in his great 
sorrow ! 

I know you will regret to hear that the Armstrongs 
have disposed of then property here, and will in a 
few days remove to New York city. Mrs. Arm- 
strong's health has been very poor for some months, 
and I think this has caused them to make the change. 
Davenport can ill afford to lose them. Mrs. Ann- 
strong is one of the noblest women I ever knew. 
The Aliens of Fairview have spent the whiter in 
Little Rock, Arkansas. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford came 
to town, and now occupy the Gifford house. The 

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/iDemoir anfc /iDemortals 



Fultons and Dr. Barrows's family spent the winter in 
Marietta, Georgia. 

It is rumored that we are to have two weddings 
soon— Miss Everett and Will Lee, and Mr. Watson 
(of the firm of G-riggs, Watson & Day) and Miss Kate 
Mitchell. It is said they will be married next month 
and go to Europe on a bridal tour. I give you these 
little news items because you are well acquainted with 
all the parties, and it may please you to know what is 
going on among us. I cannot vouch for the truth of 
any of it. Since writing you, Miss Naomi Thorington 
has been married to her second cousin, Mr. Thoring- 
ton of Alabama. They have gone with her father, 1 
who has been appointed consul to Aspinwall. 

Mrs. Sully was with me seven weeks this winter. 
They have settled in New York for the present. Her 
health is improved, but she is still very sad over 
the loss of her little girl, and seems to have no power 
to throw it off. My sister-in-law, whom you saw in 
Marseilles, will come home in May, to spend the sum- 
mer at least. My brother may not hold the consu- 
late, in which case she will stay with us. I have 
now, my dear friend, written a very long letter, but 
cannot hope it will be at all as interesting as yours, 
but if it merits an answer I shall be happy. 

Judge Dillon is holding court in St. Louis, but if he 
were at home would be pleased to join me in kind 
regards to you all. May I, before I close, ask a favor 
of you ? Please send me a photograph of yourself. 

1 Hon. James Thorington, mentioned on a previous page. 

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anna price HWlon 



The little picture of the bridge you sent I have pasted 
on a card, and as I put it in my album the thought 
came to me, ' ' I will ask for a picture of Miss Fejervary 
herself. ' ' I don't believe you will deny me. It would 
give me so much pleasure. 

Remember me to Mr. Fejervary, and give much 
love to Mrs. Fejervary, and think of me as 
Your loving friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Davenport, July [date blank], 1873. 
Dear Miss Fejervary : 

Your letter reached me on the morning of the 
19th of June, my birthday, and no one of my birth- 
day gifts was more highly prized or gladly received 
than it. Do you remember that just one year ago 
that day we attended the Crawford- Allen wedding 
together, and had such a delightful ride home by the 
light of a lovely moon? And now to think you are 
so far away ! Oh, the many changes that have come 
in the year that has passed ! I should be very sad if 
I did not constantly struggle against it. 

Sitting here alone, I am ever recurring to the past, 
calling up the faces of loved ones gone from me, 
those on foreign shores as well as those who have 
passed beyond the veil, and from whom there comes 
no answer to my many questions and the heart- 
yearnings for one more look, one more word. But I 



/iDemotr anb /iDemorials 



am content. There will come, in God's time, which is 
always a good time, a union of friends and a fullness 
of joy. 

I have, by the aid of books of travel and a faithful 
atlas, followed you every step of your journey, and 
am this afternoon with you, in spirit, in your old Hun- 
garian home. Don't you feel it ? Have I not glided 
into your thoughts this quiet, peaceful Sunday after- 
noon? I am growing impatient to see you, but know 
there are many, many days yet to pass before that 
pleasure is mine, if ever. 

Our winter is indeed over, and summer is here in 
all its fury. The weather is much more extreme 
than at this time last year. The flowers are all in 
the glory of full bloom. The hay has been cut and 
stored, and all things move along about the same 
as when you were here; but I can't tell you anything 
that you do not already know about the heat of an 
Iowa summer. 

How much I should have enjoyed walking with 
you through the art-galleries of Rome and Florence 
I have no language to tell. I have read so much and 
often of them that already I seem to know them. 
Had you the pleasure of seeing Hiram Powers ? Our 
papers notice his death as having occurred the 16th 
of June, which was, I presume, some time after you 
were there. Your suggestion that thoroughly to 
enjoy visiting those large art-galleries one should 
have a ' ' plan ' ' and adhere to it is a good one, and 
one which few people would think of. When I go to 

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Hnna price Billon 



Europe I hope to profit by the experience of my 
friends, and stay long enough to carry out their ideas. 
Your l ' serenade ' ' on the Grand Canal in Venice was 
delightful, I know. I have told several of our com- 
mon friends of the good times you are having, and 
did not forget to recount that among the first. I 
experience, in reading your letters, something of the 
same pleasurable sensations as when reading fine 
descriptions of places and things which we often 
meet with in romances. In a former letter you de- 
scribed Vesuvius, and it brought strongly to mind 
the same impression I received of it in reading ' ' Co- 
rinne." I have said to several persons that I was 
doing Europe this year in company with the Fejer- 
varys, you in reality, I by aid of your letters, books 
of travel, and atlas. It is a novel way, I know, but 
much better than not to travel at all, for really my 
knowledge of people, persons, and things is much 
increased by it. 

I have with me for the summer my little nephews 
and nieces from Chicago. 1 The dear little baby 
Mary (who is now just two and a half years old) has 
become so attached to me that she will allow no one 
else to do anything for her. Her brothers declare I 
am ruining her by petting, but I know she receives 
no more than if her dear mother had lived. Mr. Col- 
lier is at present in Boston on business. The children 
are happier with me than any one else, and I am 
happy that it is so. 

1 The children of her deceased sister, Mrs. Collier. 

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Your photograph has delighted all your friends who 
have seen it. Susie Dillon's expression, upon seeing 
it, was a striking one, and I must tell you of it. ' ' Oh, 
mama," she said, " don't she look as if there were 
noble blood in her veins! " Mrs. Putnam remarked 
that it looked l ' like pictures of queens of the olden 
time." We are all pleased to have it for the love we 
bear the original. 

Give kindest love to Mrs. Fejervary. Judge Dillon 
wishes to be remembered both to her and yourself, 
also to Mr. Fejervary when you shall see him. As 
soon as we succeed in getting good pictures of our- 
selves, we will be happy to send them to you. 

Without urging you beyond what your time and 
occupations will allow, I must say that I shall look 
anxiously for another letter. With warmest love, I 
am, Sincerely yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Leafland, Davenport, September 21, 1873. 
Dear Miss Fejervary : 

Never before has so long a time passed between the 
receipt of one of your letters and a reply to it as this 
time. Your letter reached me in due time, and was 
joyfully received ; but in a day or two afterward the 
cholera broke out here with some violence, and Judge 
Dillon thought it wise to leave the city for a time ; so 
we gathered up the children (Mr. Collier's included) 

71 



Hnna price Billon 



and went two hundred miles north to Clear Lake, 
where we remained until a few days ago. Since our 
return I have been confined to my bed with a severe 
cold. Clear Lake is about seven miles long and three 
wide. It is really a beautiful body of water. In the 
center of it is an island of a few acres, upon which is a 
hotel for summer visitors. We preferred to stop in the 
village of Clear Lake, as at present there is no ferry 
plying regularly between island and mainland, and 
we wished to be in constant communication with our 
home. We enjoyed our stay very much. We lived 
upon the water most of the time, either fishing or 
sailing. One day the older children of the party took 
twenty-seven fish, some of them quite large, weighing- 
three pounds each. 

The only unpleasant occurrence of the whole time 
we were there was Susie Dillon's narrow escape from 
drowning. She, with her brother and cousins, were 
out on a yacht, fishing ; it was anchored in about 
ten feet of water. The skiff which was used to carry 
us to and from the vessel was brought alongside. 
Without waiting for assistance, she stepped down into 
it, and before she could sit down the waves carried 
it out from the side of the yacht, throwing her into 
the water head first. She went down between the 
two boats clear out of sight, but came up in a moment, 
and sputtered out to her brother, who was almost 
paralyzed with fright, "Throw me a rope!" The 
rope was thrown, and she clung to it until a man 
from shore came to her relief. I was at the hotel, 

72 



flDemoir anD /iDemorials 



unconscious of the accident until she came to tell it 
herself. It was the thirteenth day of September, the 
anniversary of my sister's death. My thoughts had 
been with her all the day. Not until then did I realize 
how much greater my sorrow might be had not God 
interposed in Susie's behalf. 

If I mistake not, it is just one year to-day since 
you went abroad, and how much I would love to see 
you I have no language to tell. Every one inquires, 
' ' When are the Fejervarys coming back ? " J do 
not inquire when, for I comfort myself that it will be 
soon. If it is not, I do not want to know it, for that 
will take away my only solace for your absence. We 
were very sorry to hear of Mr. Fejervary's failing 
health, but hope he is fully restored long ere this by 
the efficacious waters of Ems. 

In one of your letters written in Italy you inquired 
if I had read ' ' Eomola. ' ' I was then reading ' ' Middle- 
march, ' ' by the same author, and have since sent and 
procured " Romola," and hope I shall like it. li Mid- 
dlemarch" has been called the greatest novel of the 
nineteenth century. I confess I have read many 
others I like better. It may be that I cannot appre- 
ciate it. The only character in which I saw any- 
thing to admire was Mary Garth, and she had fail- 
ings. Notwithstanding my disappointment in this 
book, George Eliot ranks high with me, and from 
her "Adam Bede" I have many rich kernels stored 
away for use in time of need. 

I suppose, writing as I am from your old home, I 
73 



Hnna price Billon 



should be able to give you some of the news of the 
day, but really here I am at a great loss. My life 
this summer has been so devoted to my family that I 
have scarcely known what has been going on outside 
of it. Many people have been from home, and are 
now just returning. Captain Adams, whom you will 
probably remember, has just brought a wife to Dav- 
enport. I have not seen her as yet, but am told she 
is a very interesting lady. She was a Miss Steele of 
Marquette, Michigan. We have taken rooms at the 
new Burtis House, yclept ' ' Grand Central, ' ' for the 
winter. Last winter was so gloomy living here 
alone that I dare not try it again. I hardly believe I 
shall like it, but my husband thinks I will not notice his 
absence as much boarding as housekeeping. I shall 
have to be separated from many of my beautiful plants, 
but will take enough with me to keep me cheerful. 

Eemember me to Mr. and Mrs. Fejervary. If Judge 

Dillon were at home he would be most happy to join 

me in many good wishes for you all. Hoping that my 

letter may have a more speedy reply than yours, I am, 

Very truly your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Burtis House, Davenport, December 21, 1873. 
Dear Miss Fejervary : 

Your welcome letter dated Milan, November 9, came 
to me two weeks ago. Circumstances of varied char- 

74 



/IDemotr ant) /l&emoriais 



acter have prevented an earlier reply. I need not 
tell you how gladly it was received ; of that you have 
been assured long ago. After my letters go, I count 
the days and weeks until I get an answer, and allow 
me to say here that I am sometimes conscience- 
stricken that I am so unreasonable as to expect letters 
from one who must be overtaxed with letter- writing. 
You have such a large family of relatives, and so 
many who are glad to be counted as friends, that you 
must indeed be constantly employed in answering 
letters. Now, let me beg you not to tax yourself for 
me, for, much as I enjoy your letters, I will wait 
till you come home to hear of all the pleasure you 
have had, rather than that you should be constantly 
bent over pen and paper to get your letters answered. 
I say wait, for I am looking forward to your return 
with great eagerness ; and I know you will tell me of 
much that you have not had time to put on paper. 
Your letter has been read and re-read, thoroughly 
analyzed and digested, and I am not yet willing to 
consign it to the package labeled "Letters Eead and 
Answered." 

By the help of my map, the travels of Bayard 
Taylor and H. B. Wallace, I have followed you closely 
from Ems down to Milan, where I shall probably 
' ' lie over ' ' until I hear from you again, either by 
letter or verbally. The description of Strasburg 
and the cathedral interested me much, and so thirsty 
am I to know more of it. You can have no concep- 
tion of how much I enjoyed your trip through Swit- 

75 



Hnna price Billon 



zerland. While reading your letter it seemed to me 
that I too could almost feel the good effects of its 
balmy, invigorating air. Your ride up the steep side 
of the Rigi seems a perilous one. I think I would 
prefer to make that trip on foot or on mule-back. 
I never could be persuaded to make it in cars. I 
did not know until quite recently that there was a 
railway built there. Judge Krekel of Missouri made 
us a visit a few weeks since, and telling me of a 
trip he made two or three years ago to his old 
home (Germany), and of a tour in Switzerland, he 
casually mentioned his ascent of the Rigi on the 
railway. 

But I have not told you anything as yet about 
Davenport and her people. I hope you will not think 
me egotistical if I begin telling you about myself 
and mine. We are at the new Burtis House; have a 
suite of four rooms, parlor and three sleeping-rooms. 
I have brought with me two large ivies and a few 
geraniums ; the rest of my plants I committed to Mr. 
Oliver's tender care for the winter. We expect to 
get back to our pleasant home in April or May at 
farthest, though the weather will decide which. 
Your friends often inquire when you are coming, 
and I am so happy to be able to say that you will 
return in the spring. 

You may not consider ' ' Middlemarch ' ' a political 
novel, but it certainly contains a full account of the 
many little bickerings which are so common in little 
townships. A lady in Chicago (Mrs. Dall by name), 

76 



ZlDemolr anfc> /Memorials 



who has some reputation as a writer, in speaking of 
' ' Middlemarch, ' ' said, ' ' It was a town without a God 
and a community without a conscience"— a very 
true criticism, I think, and feel that when you have 
read it you will say the same. 

My brother Milton, who returned from Europe a 
few months since, has gone with his family to Jeffer- 
son City, Missouri, to live, and Susie Dillon is spend- 
ing the holidays with them. Mr. and Mrs. Ed Smith 
and my father and mother have gone to Florida for 
the winter. The Davenports have closed their house 
for the winter, and have rooms here. It looks very 
lonely down toward our homes— all the houses closed 
but Mr. Putnam's. 

I believe I have exhausted my store of news, and 
feel that to write more would only be consuming your 
precious time to no good purpose, for I should not be at 
all edifying. Remember me to Mr. and Mrs. Fejer- 
vary. Tell them I shall be but too happy to welcome 
back my neighbors. Judge Dillon asks me to give his 
cordial regards to you all, and a wish for your speedy 
return. I hope this winter may be pleasant and 
profitable to you; for is it not a great favor and 
blessing to be able to spend a winter in Rome ? I 
must now say good-by. I shall think of you often, 
and New Year's Day I will, in spirit, spend the day 
with you. 

With much love, I am, 

Sincerely yours, 

Anna Price Dillon. 
77 



anna price Billon 



To Miss Fejervary 

Leafland, Sunday, June 21, 1874. 
My dear Miss Fejervary : 

Nothing can equal the feeling of disappointment I 
experienced upon receiving your letter and learning 
of your decision not to return till early autumn. I 
had been looking and planning for your arrival for 
over a month, expecting you upon almost every train, 
promising myself unbounded pleasure in that event, 
and coaxing into bloom some favorite flowers, that 
they might be sent you as a slight token of the wel- 
come awaiting you, and of my joy and happiness. 
But now I must wait till the leaves show signs of ap- 
proaching winter, and ' ' the sunlight lies yellow on 
the floor." 

My chief pleasure in your absence has been in read- 
ing and answering your letters, and happy shall I be 
if yours has been equal in receiving. Prompted by 
my regard for you, I have taken the liberty, when 
visiting Oakdale this spring, to clear with kindly 
hands the dead leaves and grass from your dear 
brother's grave, and trim the shrubs that bend so 
kindly over it. It is only what I believe you would 
do for me were I away from the sacred dust of those 
I love. The grounds around your home this spring 
were more beautiful than ever before. 

Leafland is lovely, too, and as I sit at my win- 
dow this glorious Sunday morning, and inhale the 
perfume from the new-mown hay, I feel there is no 

78 



/Ifcemoir anD /Iftemotials 



more beautiful place on earth, and am content that, 
as yet, no purchaser has made his appearance to ask 
it for his own. Except for the evidence of greater 
prosperity in business, greater development intellec- 
tually, and broader views of men and women and 
their actions and beliefs generally, everything seems 
much the same as when you were here. People 
marry and are given in marriage ; they sicken and 
die— leave sorrowing friends, for whose breaking 
hearts there is no comfort save the blessed assurance 
that " our loss is their eternal gain." 

Davenport is growing— first in the matter of num- 
bers. Last spring I counted from my front door 
thirty-nine new roofs, some large, but, of course, the 
majority were small houses. Second, we are keeping 
step with the world in its march toward greater refine- 
ment, self-culture, general improvement, and equal 
rights. As a proof of this I have but to relate the 
fact that last spring the management of the Public 
Library was turned over to the women of the city. 
A full corps of officers was elected from the women, 
with your correspondent for president. Ten years 
ago such a course as this would have been deemed 
evidence of insanity on the part of the people. The 
old Methodist Episcopal church on the corner of Fifth 
and Brady has been remodeled, and the upper room 
fitted up as library room. Last week the incoming 
of the new administration was celebrated by a straw- 
berry festival, from which we realized three hundred 
and ten dollars. All are much interested in the suc- 

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Hnna price Dillon 



cess of this enterprise, and hope to make the library 
second to none in the State. 

Our literary society, known as the " Clionian," of 
which I wrote you some time ago, is nourishing. The 
meetings are very pleasant and profitable. Our man- 
ner of conducting them is as follows: We select a 
subject and divide it into topics. For instance, one 
week we had "American Literature,' ' grouped in this 
way: " Poets," " Historians," "Journalists," " Theo- 
logians, " " Humorists, " " Magazinists. ' ' These were 
assigned among the ladies, each writing a paper upon 
the one she received. 

Two years ago day before yesterday was the Craw- 
ford-Allen wedding. Another birthday for me has 
just passed. How short the years grow and how 
quickly they fly ! 

Mr. Hubbell has just brought home a new wife, in 
the person of a Miss Worthington of G-eneseo, Illinois. 
I am told she is a very estimable lady; but how 
forcibly this brings back the other Mrs. Hubbell, 
whom I admired and loved so much ! 

Remember me kindly to Mr. and Mrs. Fejervary. 
Judge Dillon says : ' ' Tell them their place looks too 
lonely without them. I shall be glad to see them 
home again." 

With great regard, I am, 

Very sincerely yours, 

Anna Price Dillon. 



80 



CHAPTER II 

VISIT AND SOJOURN IN EUROPE 

1875-76 

1875, Visit to Washington — General Grant — Sails on steamship Russia 

— Visit to Ireland — Cork — Killarney Lakes — Giant's Causeway — 
Scotland — Edinburgh — Abbotsford — Melrose — England — York — 
London — France — Rouen — Paris — Castelar — Daughters at school 

— Switzerland — Geneva — Bern — Lucerne — St. Moritz — Italy — 
Milan — Florence — Venice — Verona — Germany — Munich — Stutt- 
gart — Frankfort — Holland — The Hague — Amsterdam — Paris. 

LETTERS TO MRS. SILSBEE, MRS. McCULLOUGH, 
MISS FEJERVARY, AND MRS. BILLS 




N May 18, 1875, Mrs. Dillon, accompanied by 
her husband and all of her children, except 
the oldest son, who was then a law student 
in the Iowa University, and by her niece, Susie Price, 
left Davenport for Europe. On the eve of Mrs. 
Dillon's departure, May 17, the Library Association, 
the Ladies' Christian Association, and the Ladies' 
Temperance Association gave a banquet in her honor 
at the Library rooms, which was largely attended by 
members and citizens and their wives for the purpose 

81 



Hnna price Billon 



of saying farewell, and of expressing their sentiments 
of affection and regard. This trip had been long 
planned, and it was now entered upon with no slight 
satisfaction. Leafland was occupied, after Mrs. Dillon 
left in 1875, by her friend Mrs. Silsbee, to whom 
many of the letters in this memoir were written. In 
1876, prior to her return, it was occupied by her 
valued friend Mrs. Graham, her daughter Anna 
(afterward Mrs. Lord), and a niece, Miss Mollie 
Graham. 

As Mrs. Dillon's daughters had never seen the na- 
tional capital, it seemed fitting that they should do 
so before going abroad. Accordingly, it was deter- 
mined to proceed by the way of Washington, where 
the party arrived May 20, stopping at Willard's. On 
the next day a carriage was taken for the purpose of 
seeing the city, and when the party arrived in front 
of the White House her husband said : ' ' President 
Grant having appointed me Circuit Judge, that, as 
well as proper respect for the President, requires me 
to call on him. Go with me; it will take but a short 
time. ' ' Reluctantly Mrs. Dillon consented, and seven- 
year-old Poddie insisted on going with his mother. 
Having sent in their cards, they were admitted at 
once to the audience-room. The scene is distinctly 
recalled. The President sat at the head of a table, 
and General Logan was eloquently urging him to 
grant some request. He pressed his suit with so 
much earnestness that he quite engaged the sym- 
pathy of the little party. The President's face was 

82 



/iDemoir anD /iDemortals 



a study. He sat unmoved— as immobile as a statue. 
No expression lighted up his eye or features. The 
visitors could not have blamed General Logan if he 
had thrown up his brief in indignation or despair. 
At length, having finished, the President simply said, 
" General, I will consider the matter." 

As General Logan departed, the President greeted 
his callers cordially. After a short conversation 
they rose to leave. The President also rose. The 
day was very warm. The little boy was very 
thirsty. He had discovered in one corner of the 
room a water-cooler. Plucking his mother by the 
gown and pointing to the coveted cooler, he said: 
" Give me a drink, mama; please give me a drink.' ' 
His mother replied : ' ' Pretty soon ; let us go. ' ' But 
he only renewed his appeal. Unlike his mother, he 
was utterly unconscious of the fact that he stood in 
the presence of the general who had victoriously 
commanded a million of men in the field, had put down 
the Rebellion, and now embodied in his person, as 
Chief Executive, the majesty of the reunited great re- 
public. " Mama, please give me a drink," again he 
cried. Thereupon the President, his face no longer 
immobile, but beaming with kindly sympathy, went 
to the cooler, filled a glass, and handed it to the boy, 
saying: " Mrs. Dillon, I feel a great interest in little 
boys; he may one day be President; certainly his 
chances seem brighter than mine at his age." It was 
a fit scene for some great painter. It was indelibly 
impressed upon Mrs. Dillon's mind, and years after- 

83 



Hnna price Billon 



ward, when General Grant was a guest at her house 
in New York, she recounted the incident to him. Of 
course, General Grant had forgotten it. Such acts 
were so natural to him that he took no account of 
them. Ten years before, his magnanimity had been 
displayed to the world on a great historic occasion, 
when he received the surrender of General Lee and 
his army ■ and a few years afterward the most heroic 
act of his life was performed, when, in the unrelent- 
ing tortures of a cancer of the throat, he wrote his 
' ' Memoirs ' ' as the sole provision that he was able to 
make for his wife and family. 

While in New York awaiting the time of sailing, Mr. 
and Mrs. E. W. Stoughton called, and, at their sug- 
gestion, Mrs. Dillon and husband visited with them 
the court in Brooklyn where the Beecher trial was in 
progress, and heard short arguments from Mr. Evarts, 
General Tracy, and Judge Porter, of counsel in the 
cause. This was the beginning of a pleasant acquain- 
tance with Mrs. Stoughton (the mother of John 
Fiske, the author and historian), whom Mrs. Dillon, 
when she first met her, pronounced to be the most 
regal and impressive-looking woman she had ever 
seen— an opinion which she never changed. 

On May 26 the party embarked on the steamship 
Bussia, and arrived at Queenstown June 4. June 5 and 
6 were spent in Cork and Killarney ; June 6 and 7 in 
Dublin; June 8 at Port Rush; June 9, Giant's Cause- 
way; June 10, Belfast; June 10 and 11, Glasgow and 
Inversnaid; June 12, Stirling; June 12-14, Edinburgh; 

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/Ifoemoir anb /IDemorials 



June 15, Abbotsford and Melrose; June 16, Edin- 
burgh; June 17, York; from June 18 to July 3, 
London; July 4, Eouen; and on the evening of the 
same day the party arrived at Paris. July 10 her 
daughters, Susie and Annie, and her niece were placed 
at school with Mme. Talot; and soon afterward Mrs. 
Dillon and her husband left Paris for an extended 
tour, and in July and August visited successively 
Geneva, Bern, Lucerne, St. Moritz, Milan, Florence, 
Venice, Verona, Munich, Stuttgart, Frankfort, The 
Hague, and Amsterdam, and journeyed thence to 
Paris. Arriving there in the early part of September, 
they took rooms at 34 Avenue de la Grande Armee, 
in the Joli Sejour. 

Among the guests of this house were Senor Castelar 
and his sister. It will be remembered that in 1873, 
on the abdication of Prince Amadeo of the Spanish 
throne, Castelar and his followers set up a republican 
form of government. Castelar was president of the 
republic from September, 1873, till January, 1874, 
and was subsequently banished by Alfonso, who 
succeeded to the throne on the fall of the republic in 
December, 1874. Castelar went to France and lived 
with his sister at the Joli Sejour, where Mrs. Dillon 
was residing. In one of her letters to her son Hiram 
she mentioned the fact that she had made the ac- 
quaintance of Castelar, who lived at the same hotel 
and sat with her at the same table. After the fash- 
ion of the day, her son requested his mother to obtain 
the autograph of the Spanish statesman. Castelar 



Hnna Iprtce Dillon 



cheerfully consented to give it, and asked for a card. 
Mrs. Dillon handed him her card-case, and instead of 
taking one, he took all the cards it contained, twenty- 
four in number. The next evening he presented the 
autograph— not the one that Mrs. Dillon expected, but 
on the back of the cards (for he had used them all) 
he had written, in the Spanish language, an inter- 
esting and characteristic eulogium of Mr. Lincoln 
and of the American republic, contrasting it with the 
conditions of his own unfortunate country. Trans- 
lated, it is as follows: 

" Madam : 

' k I am glad that your son should have remembered 
me for the purpose of requesting my autograph, to be 
treasured as something holy in those American for- 
ests where shines a more brilliant light than the light 
of the sun— the light of freedom. 1 As to myself, I am 
but the slave of an intolerant church and an almost 
absolute monarchy, whereas he is a citizen of a re- 
public. I believed that I had redeemed this servitude 
through a series of gigantic efforts, and I have sunk 
back exhausted, crushed under the weight of newly 
forged fetters, ^hat encourages me, consoles me, is 
the consciousness of having sown a few ideas in the 
yet fertile soil of Spain. 

1 The phrase " the light of freedom, more brilliant than the sun," re- 
minds one of Kossuth, who, when also in exile, in one of his American 
addresses is reported to have said in his Latinized English, "I come 
from a land where the light of liberty is yet crepuscular to a land where 
it shines in full meridian splendor." 



flDemoir anfc> /iDemorials 



" A few pilgrims, carrying their Bibles under their 
arms, placing their hopes in God, imbued with the 
virtue of their idea, and resolved to serve it with an 
iron will, have created that American spirit which 
dazzles our eyes by the founding of a new society on 
the bosom of a new nature. The obstacles in our 
path are, alas! greater than those met with by these 
priests of an emancipated conscience. Our strength 
and our minds are less, far less, than the strength 
and minds of these extraordinary men; but, in truth, 
our will is as decided as their will to serve the pure 
religion of right, and to erect a true republic on the 
scarred soil of old Europe, above its colossal ruins. 

' ' The idea raised by martyrs on the altars of a cen- 
tury is never trampled down. The examples offered 
by genius are useful to all nations. The century 
which saw Lincoln, a poor wood-cutter, become the 
Christ of the negro race, cannot end without breaking 
asunder the chains of all slaves, and at least preparing 
for the emancipation of mankind. This assurance is 
a consoling stimulus under our present misfortunes. 
And for this reason marks of interest from a country 
such as yours, and from such men as your country- 
men, console and stimulate your servant, who has 
never wavered either in his work for the republic or 
in his worship of liberty. 

" Emilio Castelar." 

Late in September Judge Dillon, leaving his wife 
and children in Paris, returned to America by the 

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Hnna price Billon 



steamship Russia, reaching New York October 7. In 
January and February, 1876, he presided in St. Louis 
at the trial of what were called the ' ' Whiskey Cases, ' ' 
in which General Babcock and others were charged 
with conspiring to defraud the government, and 
which excited great public interest, and to which 
many letters from him to Mrs. Dillon, written at this 
time, related. In March he delivered his annual 
course of lectures at the Iowa University on Medical 
Jurisprudence, and in April began holding the regu- 
lar terms of his courts. On July 4, 1876, he delivered 
the Centennial Oration at Davenport, and during the 
summer was published the third volume of his Re- 
ports. These matters would appear in the correspon- 
dence, if it had been the plan of this volume to give 
letters to Mrs. Dillon; as it is, they are only briefly 
stated, to show the engagements and work of her hus- 
band in this laborious year, during the absence of his 
wife, and to make some of the references in her letters 
more intelligible. 

In February and March, 1876, Mrs. Dillon and her 
son John visited Rome, Florence, Naples, Castella- 
mare, Sorrento, and Pompeii, and, returning to Paris, 
took an apartment at 197 Faubourg St. Honore. Dur- 
ing this absence from Paris Mrs. Dillon was very much 
in the company of some esteemed Davenport friends— 
S. Frank Smith and William Renwick and their wives. 

Mrs. Dillon remained in Paris till near the middle of 
August, 1876, when she started home, with her fam- 
ily, via London, Kenilworth, Stratford-on-Avon, and 

88 



/iDemoir anfc> /l&emoriais 



Leamington, arriving at Liverpool on August 16, and 
sailing on the Bothnia August 19. Keaching New 
York, she was met by her husband, and they pro- 
ceeded to Philadelphia to the National Centennial 
Celebration. They arrived home in Davenport Sep- 
tember 21, and a letter of Mrs. Dillon's to her friend 
Mrs. Silsbee, under date November 23, expresses the 
joy she felt at her safe return and the warm wel- 
come with which her friends greeted her. That fall 
she visited her son Hiram at Topeka, and from that 
place accompanied her husband, in December, 1876, 
to Denver, Colorado, whither he went to open the first 
term of the United States Circuit Court after the ad- 
mission of that State into the, Union. The family 
spent the winter of 1876-77 at the Burtis House in 
Davenport, the spring and summer of 1877 at Leaf- 
land, and the winter of 1878-79 at St. Louis, as will 
be stated more fully hereafter. 

Here, as elsewhere in this volume, the letters, with 
the aid of a slight connecting narrative or explana- 
tion of the circumstances under which they were 
written or to which they relate, will be left to speak 
for themselves. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

London, June 23, 1875. 
My dear Mrs. Silsbee : 

We arrived here last Friday, just two weeks after 
landing. We had a very comfortable voyage— at least, 

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the weather was fine, and everything combined to 
make it a prosperous trip. I was dreadfully sick all 
of the time until the last day, so that I am only able 
to speak of the voyage from what others say of it. I 
am very grateful that I am once more on land, and 
the only trouble of my life is how I shall get back. 
However, I can trust the Good Father in that as I 
did in the journey out. 

We have had a delightful time since we landed. 
Our first visit in Ireland was at Cork. Here we re- 
mained two or three days, and visited all the country 
round about, including the ruins of old castles and 
abbeys. The principal of these is Blarney Castle, 
which has been standing for six or seven hundred 
years, the tower of which is very high and is covered 
nearly to the top with ivy, the stem of which is six 
inches in diameter, and the leaves of a rich, glossy 
green. I wish you could see the ivy of that country. 
It is " no respecter of persons, ' ' for it grows luxu- 
riantly alike for rich and poor. It covers the thatched 
roof of the laborer with the same shining glory with 
which it decks the marble pillars of the lordly palace ; 
it climbs over stone fences and covers as with a 
mantle of green all defects; it runs over bridge-piers 
and gate-posts, creeps on the ground, covers the 
trunks and clambers into tall trees, and then looks 
smilingly down at you from the topmost branches. 
Oh, it 's a glory to Ireland enough to make you wish to 
live there, had she no other. The flowers, too, are 
gorgeous. Geraniums and fuchsias, such as we have 

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/iDemofr anfc /iDemorials 



to pet and coax to grow, stand thick in all the fence- 
corners and byways. I was infatuated, and would 
have been contented to spend the whole summer there. 
From Cork we went to Killarney Lakes. These 
three pretty little bodies of water, lying in a pictur- 
esque part of the country, are a popular resort for the 
summer. We found people from all parts of Great 
Britain, and some from the United States. We made 
a short stay in Dublin, and then went to Giant's 
Causeway, thence to Belfast, then to Glasgow. We 
visited many churches which were built by Catholics, 
but at the time of Cromwell's invasion passed into 
the hands of Protestants. Of all these places I have 
bought pictures, so that, if I reach home safely, we can 
have a good time talking them over. From Glasgow 
we went to Edinburgh. Here there is much of inter- 
est. This is the place, as you know, where Mary 
Queen of Scots passed much of her time, and many 
relics of her life and reign are still shown to visitors. 
While at Edinburgh we took a train and ran down to 
Abbotsford. It stands just as Sir Walter left it for 
his better home, more than forty years ago. The 
chair and the desk where he wrote his books, his 
cane and pipe, are all preserved ; but the genius that 
once dwelt there and penned his immortal works is 
gone. We went from there to Dryburgh Abbey, a 
distance of thirty miles, to see his tomb, from which 
I gathered a rose and some ivy to take home with 
me. We are now in London— came here to see this 
great city and to rest before going to the Continent. 

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Hnna ©nee Dillon 



I never can tell you how glad I was to get your let- 
ter. Yours came at the same time with Hiram's, and 
found me almost famished for news. I read them 
with a relish, but think I was just as hungry after- 
ward as before. I am glad you enjoy living at Leaf- 
land. I was afraid you would be lonely. It is a great 
pleasure to know you are so happy. I think of you 
often, and wish I could see and chat with you. Last 
Saturday was my birthday. How I would have liked 
to take tea with you ! When you see Mrs. Hills, tell 
her the slippers she made me were my constant com- 
panions on shipboard except when I was on deck, 
and that she will never know in this world how I love 
her. Remember me also to Mrs. Wadsworth, Mrs. 
Barnard, Mrs. McCullough, Mrs. Burton, and think 
of me often yourself. Give kindest regards to Mr. 
Silsbee. Write me as often as you can without injur- 
ing your eyes. Don't wait to receive answers, for it 
takes so long for a letter to reach me. My husband 
joins me in love to you all. How is old Frank? * I'd 
like to pat his face, the dear old fellow! Excuse all 
errors in this letter. I have written hurriedly, and 
between the times of sight-seeing. With love, I am, 
Yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Dillon's first letter after her return to Paris 
in September, 1875, was written to Mrs. McCullough. 
It is interesting not simply for its account of her 

1 The family's favorite horse. 
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/IDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



travels, including the meeting of the Peace Congress 
at The Hague, and her mode of life in Paris, but also 
for the beautiful thoughts in the concluding para- 
graph suggested by the photograph of her friend. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Paris, September 15, 1875. 
My dear Friend : 

We are again in Paris, after an absence of eight 
weeks. We arrived here tired and worn, but I was 
suddenly restored by the receipt of your kind letter. 
It is the next best thing to going home to hear from 
there. Since I saw you my experiences have been 
varied and strange, pleasant and unpleasant; and 
while I 've seen much to interest and instruct, I 've 
seen enough to satisfy me there are no people like 
those ' ' I left behind me, ' ' and no country like my 
own. 

After a ten days' voyage we landed in Ireland, the 
land of your O'Connell, Emmet, and Meagher, of 
beauty and of thraldom. Of the impression made 
upon me by the scenery, as we passed by steamer up 
the river Lee from Queenstown to Cork, I can never 
tell you; the beautiful green of the whole country, to^ 
gether with the grand trees and ivy-covered houses 
and towers, surely cannot anywhere be surpassed. 

In Cork we remained long enough to make several 
excursions into the country, one of which was, of 
course, to Blarney Castle, where my husband ' ' kissed 

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Hnna price Dillon 



the Blarney stone," but J did not— another instance 
of the failure to give the needed medicine to the right 
person; since he inherited the qualities it is said to 
bestow, while all the troubles of my life have arisen 
from a lack of them. 

After Cork we visited Killarney, Dublin, Giant's 
Causeway, and Belfast. I 'm bringing home some 
ferns and ivy to freshen your recollections of the 
place of your birth and scenes of your childhood. In 
Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin, we visited the burial- 
place of the Dillons— at least, some of them, for I'm 
quite sure I detected in the barefooted youngsters 
who followed us with outstretched hands, crying 
something which sounded like ' l donus, ' ' a strong 
resemblance to the gentleman beside me. 

We crossed the Irish Sea to Glasgow, thence to 
Stirling and Edinburgh, by way of the Scottish lakes 
and the Trossachs. Here we were shown the palaces 
and castles once occupied by the unfortunate Mary 
Queen of Scots, and other places of interest. A short 
ride of an hour brought us to Melrose Abbey ; thence 
by carriage we went to Abbotsford, now occupied by 
Sir Walter's granddaughter. A few miles from this 
charming place is Dry burgh Abbey, where the re- 
mains of Scott are buried. 

At Edinburgh we could have spent many weeks very 
pleasantly; but remembering my husband's limited 
time, we hastened on to London, and happened there 
just in the ' ' season. " " Nobility ' ' was ' ' in town, ' ' and 
London was gay, which is not the case when it suits 

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flDemoir anD /IDemorials 



nobility to depart. Here we spent three weeks, visit- 
ing Westminster Abbey, the Tower, Houses of Par- 
liament, picture-galleries, Kew Gardens, Zoological 
Gardens, and many other places of interest. From 
London, via Newhaven and Dieppe, we came to 
Paris, stopping at Rouen only long enough to visit 
the cathedral of the eleventh century and the more 
modern Church of St. Ouen. 

The 4th of July found us in Paris at an American 
hotel, where great preparations had been made to cele- 
brate the Fourth. Our Stars and Stripes floated from 
doors and windows, and everything went ' ' merry as 
a marriage-bell." Now, I confess that since the or- 
deal of bidding my friends good-by in Davenport, no- 
thing had so overcome me as the sight of the • ' dear 
old flag. ' ' I managed to conceal my feelings till the 
band struck up ' ' Hail, Columbia, ' ' and the air we 
sing to " My country, 't is of thee," when I beat a 
hasty retreat to my room and had it out alone. 

Now, I fancy you 'd like to know what I think of 
Paris. In the first place, I '11 tell you what I think 
it is not. It is not Paradise. It is said that many of 
my countrymen desire to be sent here after death, 
wishing no better heaven; but I don't. Of course it 
would be preferable to the place which many may 
think I stand in imminent danger of, but I '11 try for 
a place "up higher." It is, without doubt, a very 
beautiful city, and one of the cleanest, but has not, 
as has been claimed for it, the highest civilization, 
for such civilization means morality, and that is at 

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Hnna price Dillon 



a very low ebb. The architecture, doubtless, ranks 
among the finest in the world. 

While absolutely nothing is seen in monuments, or 
names of streets and places, to remind you of Napoleon 
the Third, you see constantly memorials of Napoleon 
the First, or, as the French say," Napoleon le Grand." 
He lives in the Arc de Triomphe, the Colonne de 
Luxor, Colonne Vendome, and many of the principal 
streets bear the names of members of his family and 
of his battles. While Paris stands Napoleon the First 
will never die. Paris is a good place to buy a bon- 
net; never were such bonnets made anywhere else. 
The boots, too, are unexceptionable in their fit, and 
the hand that wears a Paris glove is always beauti- 
ful. Our stay here was prolonged to nearly three 
weeks, which were spent in sight- seeing, and in the 
search for a school for my daughters. We at last 
found one highly recommended. The lady has taught 
here for years, has about thirty scholars, and a most de- 
lightful house and grounds ; and I think I ' ve done well 
to place my children with her, and no doubt you will 
think so too when I tell you she is a devout Catholic. 

After placing them and remaining long enough to 
see if they were comfortable and happy, my husband 
and I started on the tour we have contemplated ever 
since we first thought of going abroad. Arriving 
in Geneva, we stopped for several days, making a 
trip up the beautiful Lake of Geneva (or Leman, as 
they call it here) to Chillon. Here, of course, with a 
number of others, we traversed the gloomy dungeons 

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flDemotr anfc Memorials 



and caverns of the castle, were shown the hollows in 
the rocks, worn, it is said, by the weary feet of the 
poor unfortunate who was chained here for many 
years. 

We did not go up Mont Blanc, but had such a view 
of it from Geneva as few are favored with. 

From Geneva we went to Bern and Interlaken. 
Here we had views of the Jungfrau quite as beau- 
tiful as Mont Blanc, but lacking its grandeur. 
After leaving here we went to Lucerne, traversing 
the Lake of the Four Cantons and making the ascent 
of the Eigi; and taking our way over the Alps by 
the Briinig, Albula, and Julier passes, we came to 
St. Moritz in the Engadine, where we spent a couple 
of days with our friends Frank and Mary Smith. 
We were delighted to find Mr. Smith so far restored 
in health as to be able to climb mountains with the 
most robust of the party. 

Leaving St. Moritz by the way of the Maloggia Pass 
and Lake Como, we went to Milan, where we spent 
two days, most of the time in the cathedral, which 
well repays one for all fatigue endured in getting 
there. From Milan we journeyed to Florence, Venice, 
Munich, Stuttgart, and Frankfort ; but of these places 
I must at some future time tell you, as my letter is 
already too long, and, I fear, tiresome. 

My husband being a member of the Association for 
Keform and Codification of the Law of Nations, and 
desiring to be in attendance at its session, we pro- 
ceeded rapidly by way of the Rhine and Cologne to 

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Hnna IPrtce Billon 



The Hague. We found the members already there. 
Among them were representatives of many nations— 
Germans, Eussians, Italians, French, Danes, and 
Americans. The sessions were held in the Royal 
Council-Boom of Holland, and the galleries were 
given to the ladies, as the majority of the members 
had their wives with them. Now, was not this a rare 
opportunity to study parliamentary rules? The presi- 
dent, David Dudley Field, is a brother of the United 
States judge of that name, and of Cyrus Field, of At- 
lantic cable celebrity. He is a man of rare talents, 
and as a presiding officer cannot be excelled; but I 
observed he had quite as much difficulty to keep 
order as ever had the president of the Davenport Li- 
brary to keep everything straight in that little body. 
Several times, when important questions were being 
discussed, many of the members would rise at once. 
The president would give his undivided attention to 
the individual ivho had the floor, and if this did not 
quell the rising tumult, the gavel came down with a 
vehemence that seated the disorderly ones instantly. 
All seemed to acknowledge his right to enforce the 
rules, and took no offense; but it occurred to me that 
I knew of an assembly where nearly every member 
would be rampant should the president assume so 
much authority. 

This was really a very pleasant time for all in at- 
tendance. As to the good accruing to mankind from 
their labors, time must tell. All the members are 
eminent for learning, and stand high as lawyers and 

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publicists in their own country. Many spoke in three 
languages. Their wives are accomplished and ele- 
gant, laying aside all conventionality and foolishness ; 
are plain and simple in their manners. 

Among them I made some pleasant acquaintances. 
One was an Irishwoman who had married an English 
barrister. 1 Our acquaintance began in this way: 
Seated in the gallery listening to one of the speeches, 
a woman near me addressed me, saying, ' ' Madame, 
est ce que vous savez qui est ce qui parle a present ? ' ' 
I replied to her question, and from that we talked of 
everything pertaining to the congress, America, Eng- 
land, and Ireland; and I did not fail to express my- 
self concerning the government of the two latter 
countries, and before the conversation closed she 
found out I was a Fenian in my sympathies, and I 
think she was glad of it, but she did n't dare to say it. 

If the Peace Congress meets in America next year, 
she promised to go over, and if I 'm there she will 
visit Iowa, and I promised her she should see and 
meet you, for I told her all about you. 

But I must not forget to tell you how cordially the 
Holland government treated us. The Queen received 
the ladies in true royal style. She is an accomplished 
woman. When the ladies were presented to her she 
addressed each one in the language of the nation to 
which she belonged. The next day there was a grand 
dinner given by the government at Scheveningen 
(the fashionable watering-place of the Netherlands). 

1 Professor Sheldon Amos. 

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Buna price Billon 



One hundred and thirty persons sat down to dinner. 
The good things of all countries were spread in abun- 
dance before us. There were oceans of wine, and 
champagne flowed like rivers ; only nine wine-glasses 
at my plate. When toasts to Holland's Queen, Peace 
Congress, and United States were drunk, I clicked 
glasses with the rest of them, but there was only 
ivater in mine. I have no doubt those around me 
thought mine was a dry toast. After dinner there 
was the finest display of fireworks I have ever seen. 
Every device under the sun was produced in living 
fire ; but when ' ' Hommage au Congres ' ' blazed forth 
against the darkness beyond, three rousing cheers 
rent the air, and we took our carriages for our hotels. 

The next day Amsterdam sent down a special train 
of cars to escort us to that city. The day was a rare 
one, the perfection of autumn weather, and after a 
ride of two or three hours we arrived, and found 
twenty carriages awaiting us to show us through the 
city. After a drive of an hour through this quaint old 
place, over many of its three hundred bridges, we sat 
down to a most elaborate luncheon. Here, again, we 
were regaled with all the good things which G-od has 
provided and the ingenuity of man can devise. We 
toasted Holland and the Peace Congress, and sepa- 
rated for a year. We remained a day or two longer to 
see the picture-galleries, and then took up the line of 
march for Paris. 

Now, I 've not told you anything of the pictures 
I 've seen, nor of Italy or Germany, but this letter is 

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ilDemotr anfc /iftemotlals 



too long; I fear you 're tired and will not care to hear 
from me again. I received your photograph, and it 
looks just like you. I look into your eyes, and can- 
not believe you will not speak to me. It seems to me 
you 're here, and I believe you are, for I 'm with you 
many times: don't you think one spirit can visit an- 
other, even though waters and worlds may divide? 
I 've set you up on my mantel, where you can see all 
I do. I expect you '11 speak sometime and tell me all 
about the Library. By the way, how does it come 
on? I 'm inclosing my resignation as president, for I 
think the officers should all be at their posts doing 
their duty. If you think well you may publish it. 1 
Give my love to your sister, to Mrs. Donohue, Mrs. 
Wadsworth, Mrs. Silsbee, and Mrs. Barnard. Tell the 
two last that I 'm going to write them as soon as my 
husband leaves me, for, oh, I shall be so lonely! I 
hope you '11 all take pity on me and write me often 

1 Concerning this resignation the following is extracted from the 
records of the Library Association : 

"At the meeting held October 30, 1875, the following letter of resigna- 
tion from Mrs. Dillon was read : 

" ' Paris, September 22, 1875. 

" ' To the Members of the Davenport Library Association: 

" ' Having decided to remain in Europe until a period beyond the ex- 
piration of my term of office, and believing that the prosperity of the 
association can best be promoted by officers who are at the post of 
duty, I hereby resign the presidency of your association. I cannot 
sever my official connection with the Library without expressing my 
deep interest in its welfare, and the great satisfaction which the assur- 
ances of its continued prosperity have given me. 

'"Anna Price Dillon." 

" On motion the resignation of Mrs. Dillon was accepted, and expres- 
sions of the appreciation of the services rendered by Mrs. Dillon and 
of regret at her resignation were unanimously adopted." 

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Hnna price Billon 



and fully. With love to all who care for me, and 
much to yourself, I am, 

Forever your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

34 Avenue de la Grande Armee, Paris, 

September 24, 1875. 
My dear Friend : 

The last time I wrote you was from London ; since 
then I 've been most of the time "on the wing," 
stopping only long enough at each place to ' ' see the 
sights ' ' and drop a line to Hymie or mother to keep 
them posted as to our whereabouts. A week ago we 
returned to Paris, after an absence of nearly eight 
weeks. I found a letter from you, one from Mrs. 
Barnard, and three from Mrs. McCullough awaiting 
me. A day or two since, another one came from you, 
inclosed in one to Susie. You are very good to me 
to write so often without waiting for answers. May 
some one deal just so with you, if ever you are in a 
foreign country and among entire strangers. 

Yesterday my husband left me for Liverpool, in- 
tending to sail on next Saturday for America. It took 
all the fortitude I could muster to have him go, and 
when I bade him good-by, although I thought I was 
prepared to take leave of him calmly, I broke down 
and cried outright. Johnnie and I took a cab and 
drove back from the depot, and though it was a ride 
of an hour, neither of us spoke the whole way, but 
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Memoir an& /iDemortals 



just sat and cried. Saturday he trusts his life upon 
that treacherous ocean. May God send him a safe 
journey; for in the event of the loss of his life the 
light of many others would fade. 

Your kind letters have had the effect both to glad- 
den and to sadden me. I cannot believe that I shall 
not find you in Davenport when I return. You must 
not go ! Persuade your husband to go into some other 
business, for I cannot give you up. To think that 
both you and Mrs. Barnard will be gone greatly di- 
minishes the pleasure I take in contemplating the 
reunion I hope to have with my friends a year hence. 

I suppose it will be interesting to you to know 
how I live and where and in what way I spend my 
time. My rooms are on the Avenue de la Grande 
Armee, a street about a hundred and fifty feet wide, 
with four rows of trees. The rooms front south, and 
I have two large windows extending from floor to 
ceiling. There is a set of red plush furniture, and a 
large mirror over a marble mantel, under which is a 
grate; there is a handsome wardrobe, the door of 
which is a large mirror; the floor is inlaid wood, with 
large rugs laid in front of the sofa and under the 
table. I also have the promise of a carpet when the 
weather gets cold. In the morning, at half after- 
seven or eight o'clock, the waiter brings to my room 
some coffee or tea and bread and butter. This 
Johnnie and I eat, in bed or after rising, just as we 
feel. At twelve o'clock, promptly, the bell rings, and 
we go down to breakfast, composed of two kinds of 

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Hnna price Dillon 



meat, or else one kind and eggs in some style, fried 
potatoes, good bread and butter and marmalade of 
some kind, fruit, cheese, and very black coffee. After 
this I go out to see my daughters, whose school is 
distant only five minutes' walk. There are about 
twenty boarders in the house, and nearly all Catho- 
lics. They are nice people, but don't spend their time 
as I think is right. They dance and play cards every 
day in the week, Sunday not excepted. But this 
makes no difference to me, as I keep my room most 
of the time. They seem inclined to be very agreeable 
to me, although, up to the time my husband left, I 
had not seen much of them. That afternoon, when I 
came to my room, several of them came and knocked 
at my door and asked me to go out with them, say- 
ing they did not want to think of me as sitting alone. 
This was very kind, was n't it ? and although I had 
no heart to accept their offer, I appreciated it never- 
theless. 

My children are in school here, though when I left 
you I fully intended to place them in Geneva; but 
Geneva is nearly twenty-four hours farther from 
home. 

After settling the children and waiting to see if 
they were comfortable, my husband and I started to 
see something of the Continent. Our first stop was in 
Geneva, where we remained long enough to make the 
trip up Lake Geneva to Chillon, where we visited 
the castle and gathered some mosses and ferns from 
the walls to bring home. Here, too, we were treated 
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/iDemoir anb ZlDemorials 



to a view of Mont Blanc, a description of which I 
will try to give you if I live to see you again. From 
Geneva we went to Bern. There is little of interest 
here, save a magnificent view of the Bernese Alps in 
the distance, and an old cathedral of the thirteenth 
century. From thence to Interlaken, afterward to 
Lucerne by way of the Lake of the Four Cantons. 
At Zurich we spent several pleasant days, and then 
took our way over the Alps to St. Moritz to see the 
Smiths, whom we found, especially Mr. Smith, much 
improved by their sojourn in Europe. 

From Switzerland, by the Maloggia Pass, we went 
into Italy. At Chiavenna we stopped only one day, 
then by carriage to Colico, where we took a steamer. 
Passing down the far-famed Lake of Como, we ar- 
rived next day at Milan. We spent two days there, 
and the most of that time sat in the cathedral. Of 
this magnificent building you have read much, but 
never until you see it will you be able to dream of its 
beauty. It has already several thousand life-sized 
statues in marble, and as many more are to be added. 
It has been five hundred years in building, and they 
do not expect to finish it for one hundred more. The 
most striking feature is the light which represents 
the star of Bethlehem. On the grand altar is a cru- 
cifix. This is life-size, but suspended so far above the 
altar as to look about the size of my Johnnie. Above 
this still, in the dim and hallowed light of the im- 
mense dome, is a steady light about the size of a star 
of the first magnitude. I suppose this is a jet of gas 
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Hnna price Willow 



suspended by a tube so small as to be imperceptible 
from the room below; but, however that may be, it 
burns day and night, steady and unwavering, a fit 
emblem of that light which " lighteth every one that 
cometh into the world." 

From Milan we went to Florence, not over the 
Apennines, but through them, as we passed through 
forty-five tunnels en route for that place. Here we 
spent the time looking at pictures and churches. Of 
these I never can tell you by pen and paper, but hold 
that in reserve for some of our chats, if we are spared 
to meet again. After Florence we went next to Yen- 
ice. Oh, Venice! unique Venice! Nothing can be 
more beautiful than Venice by moonlight. But if ever 
you go there, take the advice of one who has been, 
and don't go out in the daytime at all, for it loses all 
its poetry. The canals are dirty and slimy, and the 
odor is simply villainous. Venice, though called the 
"Queen of the Adriatic," sits desolate and forlorn. 

From Venice, via Verona, Munich, Stuttgart, Frank- 
fort, down the Rhine, we came to Paris, and here, if 
it please G-od, I shall be for a year, and then with alac- 
rity take my way home. I am glad you 've enjoyed 
living in my house this summer. I felt, when I read 
your letters, that I 'd like to be at one of your little 
tea-drinkings. ]Jow delighted I was to hear of the 
improved health of our dear little friend, Mrs. Hills ! 
May she grow better and better, and live to bless us 
all for many years. Don't forget to give a word of 
love to her for me. You need not kiss her for me, 
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for many a time and oft my spirit imprints upon her 
brow and yours, with others of my dear friends, the 
ardent, burning kiss of undying affection. Don't 
speak of going away from Davenport. I can't and 
won't listen. Before this letter reaches you, if my 
husband has a safe journey, he will be with you. He 
will tell you of many things that I cannot write. 
Write me often and long, and tell all the news. I am 
so hungry to hear from you all ! Believe me, 
Yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

P. S. Johnnie sends much love to you— wishes he 
could kiss you; he says, when you see his playmate 
Mary Dewitt, to give her his love, and tell her he is 
going to bring her something when he comes back. 

Miss Fejervary, to whom, when in Europe, the let- 
ters in the preceding chapter had been written, had, 
in the meantime, returned to Davenport ; and in the 
letter to her which next follows Mrs. Dillon gives a 
short account of her own first four months in Europe. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Paris, October 4, 1875. 
My dear Miss Fejervary : 

After an absence of nearly eight weeks I am again 

in Paris. It is nearly five months since we parted. 

Little did I think then that so long a time would pass 

before I should have a quiet talk with you ! Of what 

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I 've seen to instruct and entertain I 've no ability to 
describe. We landed in Queenstown on the 4th of 
June. From thence by boat we went immediately to 
Cork, and remained long enough to visit the places of 
interest in and around the city. The old cathedral, 
with its old stained glass and deep- toned organ, has 
left with me recollections never to be forgotten. 
Neither did we forget the church of Shandon, made 
famous by Father Prout in his 

. . . bells of Shandon 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 
Of the river Lee. 

At the beautiful Lakes of Killarney our sojourn 
was short, though there is much of beauty here, 
both in nature and art. The ruins of Muckross Abbey 
contain enough to entertain one for days. Through 
Ireland, via Giant's Causeway, Dublin, and Belfast, we 
hurried to Scotland, "land of the mountain and the 
flood," stopping for some time in Stirling and Edin- 
burgh. At each place, as you know, there is still, in 
excellent preservation, a castle once occupied by the 
unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots. While passing 
from place to place on the cars, I managed to read 
again the history (though a condensed one) of this 

1 " The author is buried within the shadow of the spire which con- 
tains the ' bells ' of which he has sung with such loving grace and 
pathos. At its foot repose, as the poet informs us, ' some generations 
of his kith and kin ' ; and thus we may suppose that it was with tender 
reminiscence and warm affection that he composed this exquisite lyric." 
— "Maclise Portrait Gallery" (London, 1898), p. 47(V 

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most unfortunate woman. Holyrood Palace, with its 
abbey and many rooms containing so much to recall 
the life of its beautiful occupant, received a portion 
of our time. While tarrying at Edinburgh we made 
an excursion to Abbotsford and to Dry burgh. 

In London we spent nearly three weeks. We prof- 
ited by your kind suggestion, and, meeting with a 
gentleman on the steamer who was going directly to 
London, we took the liberty to ask his assistance in 
procuring rooms, which he did, and when we arrived 
we were comfortably settled in pleasant lodgings 
on Cavendish Street. Only for your suggestion we 
would have found ourselves in London without a 
shelter, as it was the ' ' season ' ' and every place was 
full. We spent our time in sight-seeing, visiting 
Westminster Abbey, the Tower, Parliament Houses, 
the picture-galleries, and I did not forget Kew Gar- 
dens. Ever since reading Auerbach's " Villa on the 
Rhine " I 've had a very strong desire to see the Vic- 
toria regia, and here my desire was gratified. It 
was not in bloom, but, as it was, it well repaid one for 
the journey to see it. This is a most charming place, 
and in it and other places in and about London we 
could have spent many weeks; but my husband's 
limited time forbade any such indulgence, and we 
hurried on to Paris, stopping long enough in Rouen 
to see the cathedral and St. Ouen. 

The 4th of July found us in Paris, and after re- 
maining long enough to place my children in school, 
my husband and I started for Switzerland, stopping 

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at Geneva. We made the tour of the lovely Lake of 
Geneva, stopping at Chillon and at many of the little 
villages that line its shores. While we were here, 
Mont Blanc, which had been obscured by fog and 
clouds for many weeks, revealed himself in a glory 
that cannot be surpassed in this world. From here, 
via Bern, Interlaken, Lucerne, and Zurich, we bent 
our steps toward St. Moritz. At Lucerne we stopped 
long enough to make the ascent by rail of the Eigi. 
This was to me a frightful trip, and nothing in the 
world would induce me to make it again. We were 
much disappointed, upon arriving, to find fog and 
rain. The view was entirely obscured, and we hastily 
retraced our way to sunshine and summer. At 
Coire we took a diligence for the Engadine, and after 
mounting several thousand feet above the level of the 
sea we found ourselves in that lovely spot— a valley 
with the little river Inn running through it, about one 
mile wide and fifty miles long, lined on either side 
with snow-capped mountains whose lofty peaks pierce 
the clouds. Here, within sight and breathing the air 
of glaciers, I found and gathered some flowers which 
we cultivate with great care at home— the wild pansy 
and canterbury-bell. 

From St. Moritz, via the Maloggia Pass, we went 
into Italy. At Colico we embarked on a steamer for 
a trip down beautiful Lake Como. After all I had 
heard and all I had read of Como, I thought myself, 
in a measure, prepared to behold its beauty; but if 
I had died without seeing it I should never have 
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had even a conception of its loveliness. The day 
was one of the most enjoyable of all our days; the 
weather was perfect— just made for a trip on Como. 
Without thought of car or hotel, or aught else than 
the pleasure of the moment, we abandoned ourselves 
to the enjoyment of the time, and while we live it 
will be a bright spot to turn to, if all else should 
be dark and dreary. At Milan we spent only two 
days, and most of that time in the cathedral, which, 
while it is the perfection of art interiorly, is, to my 
eye, sadly marred exteriorly by the commingling of 
the two styles of architecture, Gothic and Grecian. 

After Milan we went next to Florence. Here, while 
enjoying the pictures in the Umzi and Pitti galleries, 
it seemed that you were with me, for, through the 
letters which you wrote me while there, I was in 
some degree prepared to see them. We visited the 
churches; saw the tombs of Dante, Michelangelo, 
Alfieri, and Canova. Although much hurried, we 
gave the churches a glance, but saw only enough to 
make one wish to return. We happened in Venice 
at the time of the full moon, and as you have been 
there and spent a much longer time than I did, any 
description that I am able to give is entirely super- 
fluous. I was much disappointed in the Church of 
St. Mark. I had read Ruskin's description of it in 
' ' The Stones of Venice, ' ' and had my expectations 
wrought too high. While it is grand and beautiful, 
it falls far below the idea given by him. From 
Venice, by way of Verona, we went to Munich. At 
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Verona we stopped long enough to visit the amphi- 
theater and the house where l ' Juliet ' ' was born, 
and saw also the sarcophagus which once held her 
body (?). 

At Munich we went several times to the old 
and the new Pinakothek, visited churches, and were 
fortunate enough to be there at the time when 
the Emperor reviewed the soldiers. There were 
ten thousand men on the field, and they presented 
a sight well worth seeing. After Munich we went 
to Stuttgart, Heidelberg, Frankfort, Wiesbaden, 
Mayence; thence down the Ehine to Cologne, where 
we stopped two days to see the cathedral. My hus- 
band and I stood in wonder and delight before this 
magnificent pile, and felt that the annoyance we 
suffered while stopping in that filthy place was, in a 
measure, dissipated by sitting for a short time each 
day in this noble structure. From Cologne we pro- 
ceeded immediately to The Hague, where the Peace 
Congress for the Reform and Codification of the Law 
of Nations had already assembled. 

After The Hague we went to Amsterdam; then, by 
way of Antwerp and Brussels, we came to Paris, 
where I am settled for a year, unless I should con- 
clude to spend a month of the time in Rome. My rooms 
here are very pleasant; they have a south front, 
and are located at 34 Avenue de la Grande Armee. 
My time would be insupportably long, being here 
among strangers, if I did not go to school. Does n't 
that sound strange for a person of my age to say? But 
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/IDemofr anfc> /Ifoemortals 



it is true, nevertheless. I go each forenoon to the 
same school where my daughters are, and I 'm trying 
to learn to speak French. If I succeed I shall be very 
happy; if I do not I will have the satisfaction of 
knowing that I have not idled away my time. Now, 
my dear friend, will you write me? Overlook what 
has been only seeming neglect and be good enough to 
answer this miserable letter. The 7th of this month, 
three years ago, you wrote me from Boston just be- 
fore you sailed for Europe. My husband left me 
nearly two weeks ago for home, and will, if it please 
God, arrive in New York about to-morrow. 

Give my kindest regards to Mr. and Mrs. Fejervary, 
and believe me, 

Ever truly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

34 Avenue de la Grande Armee, Paris, 
Friday, November 12, 1875. 
My own dear Friend : 

Your good letter reached me yesterday. It did me 
much good. I felt as if I had been with you and we 
had had one of our old-fashioned talks. My heart over- 
flows with thankfulness that my husband has arrived 
in safety, and you have seen him and talked with 
him. The day that his letter arrived from New York 
saying he was safely landed, I indulged in a good 
long cry. The vessel was out a day or two longer 
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Hnna price milon 



than usual, and I had been so anxious that, when the 
climax came, it was too much for me. Johnnie- 
eight years old— comforted me, dear fellow, by saying, 
" Why do you cry, mama? Papa 's safe. I knew he 
would be, for I asked God to take him safely over." 

I am almost frantic sometimes to see you; it seems 
an age since I left you. I sit here of an evening, after 
Johnnie goes to bed, and picture my getting home- 
how I '11 run in from the cars and surprise my little 
friend Mrs. Hills; how, next day, I '11 start and go 
from house to house and clasp to my heart my dear 
old friends. But where shall I find you, my dar- 
ling? I cannot bear to think you will not be there. 
But wherever you are I '11 go to see you. If it please 
my kind Heavenly Father, I shall be at home this 
time next year. I sit and think much about it, and 
cheer the lonely evenings with the happy thought, 
and liken the return day to the sunlight which we 
sometimes see of a rainy day, resting upon the far- 
distant hills and clothing them with a glorious beauty, 
while all around and overhead is dark and cloudy. 

You said in your letter that Mr. Putnam had gone 
for Duncan. Poor Mrs. Putnam! how I pity her! 
Duncan's death is inevitable. My heart is full of sym- 
pathy for her. She loves him to distraction, and her 
poor heart will break, I fear. 

I hope you have had some fruit to put up. I wish 
I could have been there to help you, as you did me 
last summer. How is Mrs. McCullough? My hus- 
band said when he called upon her she was coughing. 
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I hope it is nothing serious. I am daily expecting a 
letter from her. She is so prompt in all things else, 
she won't keep me waiting long. She is a woman of 
sterling worth, and I feel that all the years she lived 
in Davenport when I did not know her are lost years 
to me. I feel that upon her exertions, in a great 
measure, rest the success of the Library, and she 
must be president, lecture committee, and much else. 
I had a letter about ten days ago from the little lady 
of the Burtis [Mrs. Hills], and it made me quite home- 
sick, for, while I was delighted to hear about her trip 
this summer, and her great enjoyment, it made me 
wish to see her all the more. And I went to see her, 
too, for, in my mind (that part which will come back 
and visit all my friends after I leave the world), I 
took up the line of march for America. I went to 
Liverpool and took steamer for New York. Arrived 
there, I took the train for Davenport, got off the cars, 
and went up and sat down in the easy-chair which 
stands in the corner of her room, and looked right 
into her eyes. There she sat, busy as ever. There 
was a piece of work nearly completed to make some- 
body happy. There was a good fire burning in the 
stove; the gas was turned on, and everything was 
just as cheerful as of yore. Mr. Hills came in after 
a while, spoke pleasantly to " little roll," but never 
spoke to or even noticed me. I thought that was 
very strange, for there I sat and wished so much to 
be noticed. I stopped a little while longer, and then 
came to myself, and found I- was again in Paris. 
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I am sorry your sister could not come to Davenport 
when I was there ; not that she would be better satis- 
fied with her visit, but I should have felt the plea- 
sure of getting acquainted with her. I know she is 
nice, for she is your sister. I hope it may be my 
happy lot yet to see her. I cannot and will not be- 
lieve you will leave Davenport. I think there are 
many good days in store for us yet. When you see 
Mrs. Wadsworth, tell her I often think of her, and 
that, in the language of a good old Methodist hymn, 
" no change of season or place can make any change ' ' 
in my love for my friends. Remember me to Mrs. Bills. 

There is much here to entertain one fond of butter- 
fly life. This city is full of strangers— conceited 
English and vagrant Americans. I say ' ' vagrant 
Americans ' ' because they are here for no other 
reason than to kill time and display the great variety 
of dry-goods offered for sale. 

I have as yet invested nothing in new clothes, for I 
find I 'm too busy with going to school and study to 
devote any time to it. I must very soon do some- 
thing, for I 'm beginning to get quite shabby. The 
children are studying hard, and, I think, getting on 
very well with their French. 

When Mrs. Burton leaves town what will you do for 
a president for the Christian Association? I fear the 
star of its prosperity is waning. How goes the Tem- 
perance Association? Is Mrs. Porter still the presi- 
dent? How is my friend Mrs. Foster? Give my love 
to her. I am glad you are going to take my poor, 
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forlorn husband in for the few days he will be in 
Davenport. Take good care of him, for he is a good 
man, and is the only husband I have. Sometime, 
when it is in my power, I '11 do as much for Mr. 
Silsbee. Present my very best regards to him and 
your son, and pray for me and mine, and think of me 
always as one of your many best friends, for I am, 

Lovingly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The following letter is a resume of Mrs. Dillon's 
European life and travels during the period covered 
by it. The last sentence explains why it was written, 
and why it is more formal than most of her letters. 
The exceptionally fine view of Mont Blanc, so vividly 
described, fastened itself forever upon her memory. 
As the letter ends in Switzerland, it may have been 
intended that it should be followed by another, but, 
if so, such intention was not carried out, or the letter, 
if written, has been lost. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Paris, December 1, 1875. 
Dear Mrs. McCullough : 

The morning of June 4, 1875, found the steamer 
Russia off the Skelligs, somewhat impatiently await- 
ing the arrival of the tug which was to carry those of 
her passengers who wished to see Ireland to Queens- 
town. Arrived, we found plenty of donkeys and 
beggars, but only a few persons who could in any 
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way contribute to our comfort. After a miserable 
breakfast and some delay, we took passage on a small 
steamer bound for Cork. One day sufficed to see all 
of interest in that city. We made some excursions in 
the vicinity, and then visited, in turn, Killarney, Dub- 
lin, Giant's Causeway, and Belfast. One feels the gov- 
ernment there at almost every step ; at every turn one 
encounters a red coat, white feather, and sword. 

Across the North Channel, and by the Firth of 
Clyde, we entered Scotland. At Glasgow we ate our 
first oat-cake, but, I confess, with some disappoint- 
ment, for we had anticipated a rare feast after reading 
of the relish with which George. Macdonald ate it 
sitting at the feet of his very orthodox grandmother. 
Over Loch Lomond, past Ben Lomond and Ben Voir- 
lich, and in sight of Rob Roy's prison, we came to 
Inversnaid, with its beautiful little cataract falling 
over moss-covered rocks into the lake. After a night 
spent in this romantic spot, and a drive of five miles 
next morning, we were in sight of Loch Katrine, 
with promontory, creek and bay, and ' ' mountains 
that like giants stand to sentinel enchanted land." 
In a sheltered bay a rustic pier has been constructed 
for the accommodation of steamer passengers. Em- 
barking here, we sailed close by Ellen's Isle, the Sil- 
ver Strand, and Roderick Dhu's tower. We were pres- 
ently in the bosom of the Trossachs, a wilderness of 
crags, rocks, and mounds extending a distance of 
fifteen miles. Here, in rich abundance, grows the 
bronze elm, a tree I have rarely seen in America. The 
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scenery is such as to tranquilize, subdue, and awe the 
beholder; but driving with us on the top of the same 
coach was an individual whom the thunders of Sinai 
would have failed to silence. An unmarried woman, 
no longer young, occupied the central position, guide- 
book in hand, and persisted in reading aloud from 
it; then, for a change of program, demanded certain 
explanations of the driver, and at other times de- 
claimed portions of ' ' The Lady of the Lake. ' ' 

At Edinburgh we rested, wiped the dust from off our 
faces, and went out to see the old castle, rich in his- 
toric memorials. The most interesting part of this 
city is the Old Town, and at every step one sees 
something to remind him of Sir Walter Scott. He is 
the idol of the people, and they consecrated the new 
part of the city by erecting, in a prominent place, the 
magnificent Scott monument, in whose niches stand 
proudly, or sit quietly, sculptured in massive stone, 
the principal characters in the Waverley Novels. 
Holy rood Palace (or Holy cross Palace), the scene of so 
many stormy interviews between its beautiful mis- 
tress and John Knox, is in many parts in an almost 
perfect state of preservation. Many souvenirs of 
Mary Stuart are shown, among them a moth-eaten 
basket containing some of the paraphernalia of a 
baby's toilet, a present from her cousin, Queen Eliza- 
beth, before the birth of James the Fourth. Here, 
too, is a piece of embroidery, done by the delicate 
fingers of one who, while she wrought, is charged 
with coolly planning the destruction of her husband 
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that she might marry his destroyer. A small room 
adjoining the queen's bedchamber, where still stands 
the bed whereon she rested her faultless form, is the 
spot where Eizzio met his death, and the guide fails 
not to point out with eagerness on the floor some 
black spots which he insists you shall believe are 
Rizzio's blood-stains. In another room are portraits 
of Lord Darnley and Mary. Who can look into the 
depths of those mild brown eyes, and not adore her 
beauty, lament her weakness, and pity her fate? 

The walk up High Street and through Canongate is 
most interesting. On the way are seen John Knox's 
house, St. Giles's Church, and the site of old Tolbooth 
Prison, or Heart of Midlothian, which is marked with 
a heart carved in the stone pavement. In another 
part of the city, and near the Queen's Drive, is Jeanie 
Deans' s house, and the old ruin where she met her 
sister's lover. In a narrow, gloomy street, at right 
angles with High Street, still stands the house where 
Darnley met his fate. Melrose Abbey is a short ride 
from Edinburgh, and is remarkable for the delicacy 
of its stonework. The principal feature of the abbey 
remaining is its choir window, fifty- seven feet high 
and twenty-eight feet wide, a marvel of delicate and 
finished sculpture. 

Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand 
'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand, 
In many a freakish knot, had twined; 
Then framed a spell, when the work was done, 
And changed the willow wreaths to stone. 

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As we passed to and fro under its lofty arches and 
among its broken pillars, the portress, a Scotch lassie, 
plucked from a bed near by three pansies, and gave 
them to me as a souvenir. How could she have known 
my fondness for the flower, or how divined my long- 
ing for one grown on the soil where molders, as the 
tradition has it, the heart of Robert Bruce? 

Six miles from Melrose rise the towers and turrets 
of Abbotsford, conceived by the same brain that cre- 
ated "Ivanhoe," " Waverley," "Heart of Midlo- 
thian," and "Marmion." It remains, like them, a 
monument of the genius and individual taste of its 
author. The house and furniture are the same as 
in his lifetime. Portraits of Scott, his wife and chil- 
dren, adorn the walls. The chair and the table at 
which he was wont to write stand in the center of 
his study, whose walls are lined with books, and in 
which, it is said, were produced many of his novels. 
Round three sides of this room is a light gallery, 
reached by a private staircase by which he descended 
to his work unobserved in the early morning. The 
library is a large room with a richly carved ceiling, 
pictures, busts, and books in abundance, and a life-size 
portrait of Sir Walter's son, who lost his life on his 
way home from India. The breakfast-room adjoins 
the dining-room, and, like it, overlooks the Tweed. 
Here, at his request (so a member of his family told 
me), his bed was brought a few days before his death, 
that in his last hours he might hear and see the rip- 
pling waters of this lovely stream. Here he died, and 

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here are preserved, in a glass case, his cane, hat, pipe, 
and the last suit of clothes he wore in health. Just 
outside the house is a stone statue of his favorite 
dog, his faithful companion in all his walks. At Dry- 
burgh, a few miles from Abbotsford, and in view of 
the beloved Tweed, Scott is buried. In St. Mary's 
Aisle, the most interesting part of the ruin, is the 
marble sarcophagus which guards the dust of the 
' ' Great Wizard of the North. ' ' Near at hand, cov- 
ering the unsightliness of moldering stones, creeping 
over broken arches, and climbing into aged trees, is 
the ever-smiling ivy—" the plant of immortality." 

'T is but a step from the " Land o' Cakes " to " Mer- 
rie England." Out from Edinburgh at early dawn, a 
few miles' ride over green and fertile fields brings 
you to York. And now you are sure you are in Eng- 
land : your baggage is no longer baggage, but ' l lug- 
gage." You hear your mother-tongue spoken with 
that peculiar intonation which convinces you that 
yours is not the English language, but veritable 
United States! The cathedral at York is immense, 
old, and rich in stained glass of the fourteenth cen- 
tury— justly one of the famous cathedrals of the world. 
It was our good fortune to be present at a morning 
service, and to hear grand music from a choir of boys, 
which made to resound the vaults and arches of this 
majestic and venerable pile. Among the inscriptions 
on the time-worn tablets and tombs, I found and car- 
ried away in memory the following, composed by an 
archbishop for his own monument : 
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Father in heaven, in whom our hopes confide, 
Whose power defends, whose precepts guide, 
In life our guardian and in death our friend, 
Eternal praise be Thine till time shall end. 

Good fortune brought us to London in the ' ' sea- 
son. ' ' We gave three weeks to this world of London 
— barely time enough to get an idea of its magnitude 
and outward aspects, for its palaces are countless, its 
streets interminable, and its population legion. West- 
minster Abbey, with its multitude of graves and stat- 
ues, occupied much of our time. Here, on Sunday, 
June 20, we heard Dean Stanley preach from the text, 
" Render unto Csesar," etc., and afterward offer the 
prayers of the church for the recovery of Lady Frank- 
lin, then ill and since deceased. 

Of all chapels, that of Henry the Seventh was, to 
me, the most attractive. It contains the tombs of 
Queen Elizabeth and Mary Stuart, separated only by 
the nave of the chapel. In the center are the tombs 
of Henry the Seventh and his queen. But time does 
not permit a description of this abbey, where lie 
buried England's kings, queens, and bishops, her 
great warriors, statesmen, and poets. Standing there, 
one feels the appropriateness of the beautiful reflec- 
tions of Addison: " When I look upon the tombs of 
the great, every emotion of envy dies within me; 
when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every in- 
ordinate desire goes out ; . . . when I see kings lying 
by those who deposed them, when I consider rival 
wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided 

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the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect 
with sorrow and astonishment on the little competi- 
tions, factions, and debates of mankind." 

Westminster Hall, the largest, it is said, in the world, 
except one, unsupported by pillars, derives its chief 
fame from its association with English law, being the 
seat of the courts of justice, and the entrance to the 
Houses of Parliament. It has been the scene of many 
ceremonies and sj;ate trials. Many times during our 
stay we visited this venerable seat of justice, and saw 
for ourselves those bewigged and begowned judges, 
wearing expressions of great wisdom— the successors 
of those sages, as lawyers are pleased to call them, 
who, in their affection and consideration for English 
wives, declared that their husbands, in whipping them, 
should not use a stick larger than the little finger. 
Fortunately the custom is obsolete, thus obviating 
the necessity for a tender ' ' modification ' ' of the law. 

But space admonishes me that I can but glance at 
the other places of interest. The Albert Memorial is 
a magnificent structure, as far as fine statuary can 
make it, but it is, to my eye, so deficient in height 
that one beholds it with a feeling of disappointment. 
Trafalgar Square, with its fountains and colossal 
Landseer lions, is a striking feature of the city. The 
British Museum, Royal Academy, Kew Gardens, 
the various churches, and the Tower of London, 
require much time to see, and much more to describe. 

After three weeks of busy work we left London in 
an unsatisfied frame of mind, to see for ourselves 
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what was across the Channel. Crossing from New- 
haven to Dieppe, and hurrying from Dieppe to Rouen, 
we stopped only long enough to see the famous old 
cathedral with the ' ' butter tower, ' ' and to visit the 
spot where Jeanne d'Arc suffered martyrdom, and 
take a hasty glance through St. Ouen, by far the most 
beautiful and soul-subduing of all the churches I have 
seen; and then we were off for Paris, the most en- 
chanting and seductive of all the cities in the world. 
To get the finest and most extensive view of Paris, 
go with me to a point on the right bank of the Seine, 
near the bridge leading from the Place de la Concorde. 
Before us we have the Place itself, with its fountains 
and Egyptian obelisk, the latter standing on the spot 
where Marie Antoinette was beheaded. Directly across 
it, the eye rests on the imposing fagades which form a 
grand portal to the Rue Royale, at the end of which 
rises the Madeleine, with its majestic front of Corin- 
thian pillars. On the right, the eye rushes along the 
grand fagades of the Rue de Rivoli, and catches a 
glimpse of the Tuileries peering above the trees of its 
garden, which, with its deep shades and wide walks, 
lies between you and the palace. From here the view 
sweeps on, and ends in a labyrinth of buildings, out of 
which rises the dark head of Notre Dame de Paris and 
the fairy-like spire of Ste. Chapelle. Farther on, 
where the Rue de Rivoli and the Boulevard Sebastopol 
cross, is the tower of St. Jacques. Near us, on the 
opposite side of the Seine, is the Palais de Bourbon, 
situated vis-a-vis to the Madeleine, since known as the 
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Hall of Deputies, but now closed because of its func- 
tions being performed at Versailles. The gardens 
round this building and the grounds of the Hotel des 
Invalides fill all the space near the river on the left, 
while the Champs-lllysees presses upon its shores on 
this side, and the view stretches out toward the 
Champs de Mars and Trocadero, where the buildings 
for the Exhibition of 1878 are being erected. 

Taking a cab from this point, one can, in a short 
time, visit many famous places, among them the Con- 
ciergerie where Marie Antoinette was imprisoned, 
the house where Marat was stabbed by Charlotte 
Corday, the house where lived and loved Abelard 
and Heloise, where Napoleon resided before he was 
Napoleon the Great, where Voltaire dwelt, and where 
Mme. de Sevigne wrote her letters. Coming back to 
the Place de la Concorde, we are at the foot of the 
Champs-Elysees, at the other end of which, more 
than a mile distant, towering above all Paris as the 
dome of St. Peter's over Rome, is the imperial Arc 
de Triomphe built by Napoleon. The Champs-Elysees 
on a summer night, with its fountains, colored lights, 
and myriads of lamps, presents a scene of unparal- 
leled brilliancy, and forces upon one the fitness of the 
name. In this vicinity are the Palais de 1' Industrie, 
containing a panorama of the siege of Paris, the Jar- 
din Mabille, and like places of entertainment for the 
stranger. A long drive over the boulevards de la 
Madeleine, des Italiens, des Capucines, de Sebastopol, 
brings you into the vicinity of the old Bastille, the 
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site of which is marked by the Colonne Juillet, sur- 
mounted by a figure of Liberty. 

The Louvre and Palais de Luxembourg are, as I 
have found, blissful havens to the homesick and 
lonely traveler. As he wanders through the long line 
of Kembrandts, Rubens, Murillos, and Raphaels, he 
forgets the wide ocean that rolls between him and 
home, and is led away into the ideal land from 
whence many of their subjects were taken. Who can 
gaze long on the "Assumption" of Prud'hon, the 
"Assumption" by Murillo, Delaroche's "Death-bed of 
Queen Elizabeth, ' ' and the varied and beautiful stat- 
uary there exhibited, and not lose himself, forget his 
friends, and wish never to live elsewhere than among 
these masterpieces of art ! 

The Bois de Boulogne, the different parks, the 
goblins, the multitude of public squares, all afford 
many days of study and delight. Pere Lachaise, on 
a little eminence at some distance from the principal 
part of the city, contains the monuments of many 
celebrities, among them Chopin, Abelard and Heloise, 
and Rachel, the tragedienne of our own time. Of 
places in the vicinity of Paris there is St. Denis, within 
whose walls lie buried many of the French kings; 
here, too, in marble, are statues of Francis the Sec- 
ond, the first husband of Mary Stuart; also one of 
Marie Antoinette, representing her kneeling at prayer 
just before her execution. St. Germain, the aristo- 
cratic residence of many wealthy French, St. Cloud, 
the summer residence of -the regal Eugenie, Ver- 

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sailles, where are shown the greater and lesser Tria- 
nons, and where the grands eaux are offered each 
first Sunday of the month— all these contribute to 
the pleasure of the visitor. 

From Paris to Geneva is a long and tiresome 
journey, but the fatigue is soon forgotten when once 
on the shores of the beautiful lake. Sitting all along 
its banks, laving their feet in its crystal waters, are 
some of the prettiest towns in Switzerland, among 
them Lausanne, Vevey, and Coppet, for some time 
the residence of Mme. de Stael. While at Geneva 
we had such a view of Mont Blanc as few are privi- 
leged to have. For several weeks the weather had 
been unpleasant, and the old monarch had sullenly 
concealed himself behind the clouds; but upon this 
particular evening, while at table d'hote, there was 
an outcry on the street under our windows that 
Mont Blanc was visible. Eegardless. of table eti- 
quette, all simultaneously rushed for a sight. Surely 
it was a verity ! Standing out against the clear blue 
sky, bold and defiant, clothed in spotless white, tow- 
ered Mont Blanc. The setting sun in the opposite 
heavens had thrown over it a halo of golden pink, 
the glory of which no language can adequately de- 
scribe, but which brought forcibly to mind St. John's 
vision of the New Jerusalem. Never shall I forget 
the sight or my sensations. The blood chilled in my 
veins as if an ague fit were upon me. I sat down 
in one of the garden-chairs, and watched it till the 
gold faded into silver and the silver into gray, and 
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then went to my room, feeling my insignificance, and 
revolving in my mind the text: " What is man, that 
Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that 
Thou visit est him?" 

From Geneva to Bern is an interesting trip of five 
hours by rail. The quaint old place has little of note, 
except its clock tower and cathedral. From the 
piazza of the Bernerhof we had a grand view of the 
peaks of the Bernese Oberland. 

A short ride by rail, by steamer, and then by rail 
again brought us to Interlaken, where all the tourist 
world congregates at some time during the summer. 
Sparkling little rivers run through its midst, and the 
Jungfrau, as some one has said, " from between two 
mountains looks down upon the village like a maiden 
just risen from her sleep, parting her curtains to look 
over the hills for her lover. ' ' Aside from the majestic 
mountain and the motley crowd which gathers to do 
her homage, there is little to detain one in Interlaken. 
Taking a carriage in the early morning, we drove 
seven miles to Lauterbrunnen. Close beside much of 
the road ran, sparkling and chattering, the pretty 
stream of the White Lutschine, until joined by that of 
the Black Lutschine, when it became murky and sullen, 
and wandered off into the distance and was lost to us. 
Pursuing our way up the narrow valley of the Lau- 
terbrunnen, with snow-capped rocks on either side, 
we came to the Staubbach, or Bridal Veil, a pretty 
waterfall. Throwing itself down to us from the rocks 
one thousand feet above, it breaks into mist and 
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hangs floating in the air, and then, condensing into 
water again, forms a little stream over which hovers 
a brilliant rainbow. Here, in the immediate presence 
of the mighty Alps, I rest for the present. I have 
sent you this long letter because you were kind enough 
to say that you and my friends would like a more 
full account of my wanderings and experiences than 
I had previously given. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

A. P. D. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Paris, 34 Avenue de la Grande Armee, 
Tuesday, December 7, 1875. 
My dear Miss Fejervary : 

Your kind and 'cheering letter reached me some 
days ago, and found me watching anxiously beside 
Johnnie's sick-bed. He has had one of his serious 
winter illnesses from cold, but is now much better. I 
do not think that the climate of Paris is any improve- 
ment on our own, for, while here we have not the 
extreme cold, we have -the leaden skies and damp, 
penetrating atmosphere, which produce an unpleas- 
ant feeling and are far more deleterious to health 
than the clear, bright, sparkling cold of an Iowa 
winter. 

I am beginning to look about me, for traveling 
companions to Rome, for I wish to make my escape 
to some country where the sun shines. We have not 
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seen the sun for two weeks until to-day, and then only 
for a few moments. I sometimes doubt the wisdom 
of taking the time from my studies to go to Rome; 
but looking at it from the standpoint of not being in 
Europe again, and that I can pursue my French at 
home, I have about concluded to go for a month at 
least, provided my daughters are in good health. 
Johnnie I shall take with me. With so delicate a 
throat, he cannot be separated from me. He was with 
us in all our journey ings this summer, and endured 
the fatigue of rapid travel like a soldier. He is now 
going to school, and is learning very fast. 

On Sundays, when I have my daughters and niece 
to spend the day with me, I have to be constantly on 
the alert to hear and understand what is being said, 
for they learn the language so much more readily 
than I. Prompted by the desire to acquire some- 
thing while abroad that cannot be obtained at home, 
and encouraged by Mr. Fejervary's success in Italian, 
I am working away at my books in the hope that 
I shall sometime be able to speak French. I read it 
now with some facility, and am much entertained 
in reading Chateaubriand's "Atala." The story is 
beautifully told. The scene, as you know, is laid in 
our country, on the Mississippi, near Natchez. In the 
Louvre, if you remember, there is a picture repre- 
senting the burial of Atala. i "What do you think of 
it? To me, who judges a picture only by what I feel, 

1 Mrs. Dillon brought home a copy of "Atala" made by a skilful 
artist, so impressed was she with the original. 

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it is one of the most beautiful ; for beauty of expres- 
sion, depth of feeling, and rare but natural coloring, 
it cannot be surpassed. 

How I wish we could visit the Louvre together ! I 
would like your ideas of some pictures that are con- 
sidered fine that I see no beauty in at all, but prob- 
ably one whose eyes and tastes are cultivated could 
point out beauties that I am not able to find. Some- 
times, when I am a little homesick and lonely, I wend 
my way to the Louvre, and after looking for a while 
at "Atala," Prud'hon's "Assumption," and Murillo's 
k ' Madonna, ' ' I am better contented and can bear my 
exile with more resignation. (Is n't it odd to hear 
one speak of being an exile in Paris f) Mrs. Captain 
Adams of Davenport, who has been in Paris for some 
weeks, has been copying at the Louvre. One of her 
copies is the l ' Assumption ' ' by Prud'hon and is 
very creditable to her. She has proved by it that she 
has exquisite taste. For the further cultivation of her 
art, she and her mother left for Eome a few days ago. 

I am delighted that my plants gave you so much 
pleasure, and that, instead of being a burden, they 
have repaid your care and attention by abundant 
flowers. I was much struck by our similarity in 
taste, as evinced in our mutual love for the heather. 
I first saw it in Scotland, and was wild over its little 
feathery branches ; but when I next saw it, it was in 
bloom, and oh, so beautiful! We were driving from 
Heidelberg up to the Konig's Stuhl. If you remem- 
ber, the way winds up the side of a steep hill into 
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which the road has been cut. On one side the view 
stretches far out over the plain toward the Ehine ; on 
the other the bank rises abruptly, and was at that 
time literally aglow with heather blossoms. I could 
not sit in the carriage, but jumped out, and clam- 
bering up the bank, I gathered, not handfuls but 
armfuls, while my husband rode quietly along, laugh- 
ing at my enthusiasm. He told me a carriage full of 
ladies passed while I was on my knees before the 
heather, and looked much amused ; he said, ' ' I know 
they think you are heather-crazy." If you remem- 
ber, you remarked in your letter that when I came 
to know the heather I would be ready to go on my 
knees before it. I thought, when I read it, how 
amused you would be to know that I went on my 
knees at the first introduction, not only figuratively, 
but literally. 

The other afternoon, in passing down the Rue 
Neuve Petits Capucines, I halted suddenly in front of 
le jardin deliver, a floral magazine with those large 
windows filled to the top with blooming plants— camel- 
lias, roses, heliotropes, pansies, pinks, hyacinths, and 
many flowers that I do not know, with large bouquets 
of white lilacs. Oh, it was a Paradise of flowers! 
and how I wished that my Davenport flower-loving 
friends could enjoy it with me ! This is the country of 
flowers. Here the ivy stays fresh and green all the 
winter. How small and insignificant seems my little 
plant beside the world of ivy which grows here ! But 
then, I love it, for it is ivy ! 
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Hnua price Billon 



If I go to Rome, it will not be until the 1st of Feb- 
ruary, so that if you should write me before that, 
will you not give me some idea of what I should see 
first, in case my visit should be a short one? Remem- 
ber me cordially to Mr. and Mrs. Fejervary. Accept 
also for them and yourself the kind regards of my 
three daughters (I call Susie Price mine), and believe 
me, Very sincerely, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Paris, Monday, December 13, 1875. 
My dear Friend : 

Your kind letter reached me some days ago, and 
found me anxiously watching over Johnnie, who has 
just recovered from an attack of his old complaint, 
ulcerated throat. Your letter was long in coming, 
and I had been awaiting it patiently for I know that, 
with what you had on hand this winter, you had little 
time for letter- writing. How much I have thought 
of you, and wished that some one would be able to 
take Mrs. Barnard's place in the work of the Library 
Association and assist you in your arduous duties! 
How hard you must have worked to accomplish 
so much, and how many times you must have been 
heart- sick and weary ! But for all this you are, in a 
measure, compensated by the approval of all, for, so 
far as I hear, you have won the praise of not only the 
society, but the community. Your letter had a tone 
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of despondency that I have never thought was like 
you, and I suppose it to be very foreign to your na- 
ture from the indefatigableness with which you ad- 
here to an enterprise in which you embark. I 
thought "Nil desperandum" was your motto, and 
that, ' ' sink or swim, survive or perish, ' ' you would 
stand by an object until it was finally successful, and 
that beyond a doubt. You say when your year is 
out you are going to retire into private life. I think 
your friends will have something to say about that ! 

You will find that they will not only prevent your 
laying aside your armor, but will rivet it anew, and 
add to your epaulets another bar, and perhaps a 
star. Why, you and Mrs. Wadsworth and Mrs. Bills, 
and the others who are working so faithfully with 
you, are the veterans, the reserve corps, and you 
would no more surrender the Library into other 
hands than would the veterans of the army of Napo- 
leon have surrendered their arms to the advance- 
guard of Wellington's army; and were it de- 
manded of you, your answer would be, "The Old 
Guard never surrenders." 

What is the matter with Davenport, that so many 
people are leaving? I always thought it a good place 
to live in, and it is now more than ever a guiding star, 
a cynosure in my wanderings both by sea and land. 
I must confess to the fact that sometimes I 'm home- 
sick, and then I go to the Louvre. I 'm plodding 
along slowly with my French, and, until Johnnie was 
sick, went regularly to school, and was at first in a 
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Hnna price 2>illon 



class with a dozen or more ten-year-olds. "Was n't 
that funny for an old woman? I am at present tak- 
ing lessons at my rooms, and am encouraged to think 
that quelque fois je parlerai la langue franqaise avec 
facilite. 

When I first came to this house there were in it a 
gentleman and wife of Irish birth that I came to 
know very well. They had been in Europe three 
years, and were just preparing to go to Ireland to 
make their final visit before returning to California, 
their present home. I liked them very much, and 
one day I was showing them the photos of my friends 
whom I had left in Davenport, when the gentleman 
took up yours and said, " This is a relative, I suppose, 
for it looks much like you." (Now, don't be mad!) 
I told him that was a picture of a friend, and that she 
was a countrywoman of his. " Well! " he said, "I 
might have known that, for she is very handsome." 
After they left and arrived in London, the wife wrote 
me a beautiful letter, and, among other pleasant 
things, she said: "I may never see you again, but 
I feel that I am a better woman for the short ac- 
quaintance, and shall hope for a visit from you in 
California. And now good-by. I leave to-morrow for 
Ireland, where there awaits me caed mille a failtha." 
Do you recognize the Irish sentence for ' ' one hundred 
thousand welcomes " ? It is the same given me by 
the Irish lady at The Hague when she presented me 
with the grass and ferns that she wished me to keep to 
remind me that I must visit her before I left Europe. 
All my life hereafter will be filled with pleasant 
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/IDemott ant) flDemortals 



recollections of the cultured people I have met while 
here. 

The Smiths and Eenwicks arrived in Paris last 
week, and will remain for three or four weeks, when 
they go to Rome. If my daughters are well, I shall 
go with them, and shall not return to Paris until 
March. I think a trip south will do Johnnie and me 
good, for we have both suffered much from this climate. 
While we have not the piercing cold of our own 
country, neither have we the sunshine, but fog and 
rain and snow always, which is far more deleterious 
to health than the bright, sparkling days and invigor- 
ating cold of an Iowa winter. 

I am much concerned for the welfare of the Chris- 
tian Association. What is to become of it when Mrs. 
Burton leaves you? Oh, how I shall miss all those 
good people who are leaving Davenport! I see by a 
"Gazette" which I received to-day that you have 
elected Miss Rogers in Mrs. Crawford's place. This 
is a good choice, and will no doubt redound to the 
prosperity of the association. I think, from the re- 
port of the librarian, that the number of books taken 
from the Library Association the past month is not 
so large as formerly. I suppose you can get at the 
other reports. Please tell me in your next how it 
does compare. When you see my husband, ask him 
to pay my dues. I forgot to ask him when I wrote 
him Sunday, and may forget it again. 

Christmas is coming, and Paris begins to put on 
her holiday dress. The shops are very attractive, 
and there is hurrying to and fro in every direction. 
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There is no end to the pretty things, and, you would 
think, no end to the money, the way some people 
buy. Last Christmas I was at home, happy in pre- 
paring, in my small way, for a good time. I wish I 
were again. When you write me, open your heart 
to me and tell me your honest thoughts about the 
Library. You don't know how welcome every titbit 
of Library news is. How I wish I could meet with 
you next time ! I am so much interested that I think 
of it all the time. And now, my dear friend, as my 
letter will reach you about New Year's, I close, 
wishing you a Happy New Year and the return of 
many such. Think of me at the time, and know 
that there is one heart across the wide water that 
looks forward impatiently to the time when she shall 
see you face to face, and tell you much that cannot 
be put on paper. 

Very sincerely, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The following delightful letter, welling up from the 
depths of her heart, seems to be che first which Mrs. 
Dillon wrote in Europe to her friend Mrs. Bills, the 
wife of the Hon. John C. Bills of Davenport. Mrs. 
Dillon, in the letter to Miss Fejervary above given, 
was in ecstasies over the heather, but in this letter to 
Mrs. Bills her love of the ivy breaks forth again, and, 
for the reasons stated, it stands, in her mind, as the 
fittest emblem of unchanging love; and the whole 
letter is redolent of her own love of home and friends. 
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To Mrs. Bills 

Paris, December 18, 1875. 
My dear Mrs. Bills : 

Ever since my husband wrote that he had given 
you my address and asked you to write me, I have 
been impatiently awaiting your letter. It came yes- 
terday, and was to me a godsend, for it found me 
a trifle homesick and brought sunshine and cheer to 
my heart. My anxiety to receive your letter was not 
caused so much by the ' ' news ' ' it might contain as 
that I longed to know if in its tone I might detect a 
kindly feeling for one who has so long silently and 
earnestly desired your affectionate regard. Your let- 
ter has made me exceedingly happy, and no language 
that either pen or tongue can command is able to 
tell how large a place you hold in my heart. Should 
I reach my old home in safety, my lips may never 
lisp my thoughts (for I 'm not given to protestations), 
but in the long life of pleasant social intercourse 
which I pray may be granted us, I hope to prove the 
deep-seated, unchanging love I cherish for you. 
Often, since being domiciled on this side of the broad 
water, " I 've sat and closed my eyes, and my heart 
has traveled back again ' ' to your pleasant little 
library and the last visit I made you. I see again, by 
memory's light, the cheerful faces, and hear the merry 
chat of the dear ones I left and that I long to see. 
Such reunions are the oases where we sit to refresh 

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Hnna price Billon 



ourselves and gather strength for our further journey 
over the burning sands of the desert of this life to the 
" sunlit land where noon is but the name for rest." 

My husband has no doubt told you how hurriedly 
we traveled this summer, only glancing at places and 
things, with the expectation and view of studying 
them afterward. Notwithstanding this haste, I 've 
seen much to interest mind and heart, the recollec- 
tion of which enables me to pass pleasantly many an 
evening without other society than my own thoughts 
and memories. 

While sitting here by my grate, I often retrace my 
steps over the Alps into Italy, sail down Como, revisit 
the picture-galleries of Florence, take a gondola and 
ride through canals of Venice, the memory of whose 
heat serves to keep me abundantly warm long after 
my fire dies out. Of many things both enjoyable 
and instructive I must tell you when we meet; to 
write of them would lengthen my letter till it became 
tiresome. Among them I only mention, as I pass, the 
echo of the valley of the Lauterbrunnen at the foot 
of the Jungfrau, which I fancied must resemble the 
voices of angels echoing back the tones of the Alpine 
horn of the valley from the top of this gloriously 
beautiful mountain; the ascent of the Rigi, and 
the view of four lovely lakes therefrom; the hot 
springs of Ragatz, the waters of which rush madly 
through a fissure in the rocks about twenty feet wide 
and thousands high; the night-cry of the watchman 
in the quaint old city of Amsterdam. All of these 
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and many more you would have enjoyed, and my 
only regret in viewing them was that I had not the 
ability vividly to describe them ; but I comforted my- 
self with George Macdonald's reflection under like 
circumstances : " It is given to the few to describe the 
beauty in nature, and thereby reproduce it for the 
benefit of others; but, thank God, enjoyment of it is 
given to many, and I am among them. ' ' 

Since being here I confess to some seasons of home- 
sickness, and a day at the Louvre with the pictures 
is the only antidote at hand. After a visit there, I 
return to my rooms light of foot and light of heart, 
and can more patiently await the expiration of my 
exile. This is an odd way to talk of life in Paris, 
is n't it?— a city of so many attractions and of such 
beauty. But, remember, my husband, my son, my 
friends, and all the associations of more than thirty 
years are not here, and I confess to a weakness for 
all; for there are no times like the old times, and no 
friends like the old friends. But, to be just, I must 
admit that Paris is beautiful, and never more so than 
now that she has put on her holiday garb. 

A few days ago the sun shone for the first time in 
ten days, and I took occasion to ride down the 
Champs-iElysees to see how things looked under a 
blue sky and a shining sun. Although this was near 
the middle of December, the grass and ivies were as 
green as summer, and the only things I missed from 
this most beautiful avenue in the world were the 
foliage and gorgeous flowers that flourished through 
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anna price Dillon 



the warmer months. Tout le monde was en prome- 
nade, elegantly attired, gay, and seemingly happy; 
I say "seemingly,*' for no doubt many hearts beneath 
their burden of satin, lace, and velvet longed for the 
presence of an absent one, and in agony cried, " Oh, 
for the touch of a vanished hand ! ' ' Such were my 
thoughts as I rode slowly down the broad street, look- 
ing first to one side and then the other into the faces 
of what appears to be the gayest people in the world. 

My husband wrote me what a delightful evening he 
had at your house, and it made me quite homesick. 
I wish I had been there, too, and somebody else in 
Paris. However, I 'm trying to make the best of my 
stay here, and have learned much I never should 
have learned at home. 

I wish I could transport you and others of my 
flower-loving friends to this city for a short time. 
The first thing I should do would be to take you to 
a flower store on the Rue des Petits Champs. I ven- 
ture to say there was never more beauty grouped in 
one and the same place: two large windows filled to 
their tops with flowering plants — roses, camellias, 
pinks, pansies, callas, mignonette, all in bloom, 
while there are large bouquets of white, fragrant 
lilacs from the south of France, myriads of the sweet- 
scented violets, and hosts of flowers I do not know. 
Oh, there 's a world of beauty in that one place! 
The " ivy never sear" has constantly a new charm 
for me ; it is growing now outside, just as in summer. 
The other day we had some snow, and everything 
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/IDemotr ant) /IDemoriais 



was covered; but out from the midst of it looked 
the ivy-leaves, as green and smiling as in June, 
needing no care, but nourishing alike in heat and 
cold; and as I stand and admire it anew each day, I 
think how emblematic it is of devoted, unswerving 
love, which circumstances, time, season, nor place 
can change. 

I am sorry for your sake that Mrs. Wing has 
moved from your neighborhood, but you know " it 's 
an ill wind that blaws nae gude," and as long as she 
is a little nearer mine, I can't possibly weep as bit- 
terly over your loss as you do. Wish your husband 
a Happy New Year, and believe me, 
Forever tenderly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 




143 




CHAPTER III 

VISIT AND SOJOURN IN EUROPE {Continued) 

1875-76 

1876, Visit to Italy — Rome — Florence — Naples — Castellamare — Sor- 
rento — Pompeii — Paris — Return to America, via London, Stratford- 
on-Avon, Leamington, and Liverpool — National Centennial Celebra- 
tion, Philadelphia — Welcomed home. 

LETTERS TO MRS. SILSBEE, JOHN F. DILLON, MISS 
FEJERVARY, AND MRS. McCULLOUGH 



S stated in the last chapter, Mrs. Dillon, with 
her young son John, left Paris February 2, 
1876, arriving at Rome on February 5. Her 

visit to Italy on this occasion is described in the first 

five letters which follow. 



To Mrs. Silsbee 

Hotel Bristol, Rome, February 10, 1876. 
My dear Friend : 

My first thought upon sitting down to write you is, 
Where will this letter reach you ? I try to fancy you 
144 



PORTRAIT OF MRS. DILLON, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH 
TAKEN AT PARIS, BY EMILE TOURTIN, 1876. 



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/IDemofr ant) /iDemorials 



still within my dear old home [Leafland], making it 
bright and cheerful by the light of your dear, kind 
face. A paper received to-day from home gave me, 
for the first time, the news of Mrs. Burrows's 1 death. 
How sad it makes me to think that the sweet face 
which always greeted me so kindly is hid away for- 
ever ! I had a presentiment that she would not live 
long, and so hastened to write her before writing 
many other dear friends that I hope to see again. 
Dear Fanny ! [A near relative of Mrs. Burrows, living 
with her.] How my heart aches for her in her loneli- 
ness ! How I wish I could but express to her in per- 
son my sympathy and love! When you see her, tell 
her, for me, that I fully appreciate her great loss, 
and wish I could do something to alleviate her sorrow. 
Where is little Saida ? [A fatherless granddaughter.] 
Poor child! she will soon think the hand of fate is 
hard upon her. 

Are you not astonished at the heading of my letter ? 
I cannot realize that I'm in Rome, as you will no 
doubt believe when you notice that I actually wrote 
' ' Paris ' ' instead of ' ' Rome. ' ' We arrived here a week 
ago, and I have done much toward getting acquainted 
with this ancient city. One day we visited the prison 
where, tradition says, Peter was imprisoned and the 
angel made its appearance and liberated him. Not a 
great way from here they point out the reputed site 
of the house where Paul lived while he preached the 
gospel for two years in Rome. Day before yesterday 

1 The mother of her old school friend and companion, Julia Burrows. 
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I visited the house where are kept and displayed the 
steps down which the Saviour walked after His con- 
demnation by Pilate. This I don't fully believe, as it 
is hardly probable that the stairs could or would be 
removed hither from Jerusalem and preserved so 
long; but it is believed by devout Catholics, and it 
was while ascending these stairs on his knees that 
Luther was struck by the force of the words, " The 
just shall live by faith," and suddenly arose to his 
feet and walked down and out. 

Of the number and magnificence of the churches 
here it is hard to conceive, unless you see for your- 
self. There is one for every day in the year, and the 
richness of the finish surpasses anything to be seen in 
our country. The walls within, lined with alabaster 
and porphyry, lapis lazuli and malachite, present an 
appearance most beautiful and imposing, —I doubt if 
Solomon's temple could compare with them,— while 
the massive marble steps outside are literally crowded 
with the lame, halt, and blind of both sexes and all 
ages, begging a penny to buy bread wherewith to 
continue their miserable existence. Of Rome I 've 
heard and dreamed all my life, but without seeing it 
one can have no idea of its grandeur and interest. 
The Palace of the Caesars covers many acres, and in 
it still remain traces of fresco, sculpture, and painting 
which quite fill you with astonishment and a vague 
feeling that you wander in a land and age not alto- 
gether real, but mythical. As I pass through the 
streets where stand buildings erected before the time 
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/iDemoir anfc /iDemoriate 



of our Saviour, my thoughts lead me far, far away 
into the past, and I am conjecturing as to the manner 
of people ' ' who lived, moved, and had their being ' ' 
when these old houses were new. I have not seen 
the Pope yet, nor do I think I shall. 

I see, upon looking over this letter, that it is hor- 
ribly written, and hope you will excuse it. My pen is 
worn out, and it is the only one I have at hand. 

Ever, etc., 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Rome, February 13, 1876. 
Dear Johnnie : 

This is my second Sunday in Rome. It has rained 
nearly every day since I came, but notwithstanding 
that, I have been sight-seeing. There is, indeed, 
plenty here to occupy one for months. One of 
the days in the early part of the week we vis- 
ited the Palace of the Caesars. This in itself offers 
enough to interest one for days. It covers an area of 
many acres, is situated on the Palatine Hill, and in 
this immense pile of ruins are shown the houses of 
Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero, and 
other emperors. I succeeded in obtaining from the 
ruins a piece of marble, which I intend having made 
into a paper-weight for you. I regret constantly that 
you have not the opportunity to see these things, 
which extensive reading has. fitted you fully to enjoy, 
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and I shall never rest satisfied until you have given 
at least three months to Eome. It will well repay 
you for another trip across the ocean, even if you 
should be seasick all the time. The little that I 've 
seen up to this time compensates me for the wretched 
days I passed on the Russia. 

I do not quite feel that the days I 've been shut up 
in my room are a total loss, for I have put in my 
time reading " The Marble Faun," a delightful guide- 
book to Rome in Hawthorne's beautiful style. We 
spent half a day at the Vatican, where there are 
many pictures of renown, among them Raphael's 
" Transfiguration." We have visited several palaces, 
in which we find the pictures that we 've heard of 
all our lives. Next door to this hotel is the Barberini 
Palace, in which is the famous " Cenci," painted by 
Guido Reni two hundred years ago, but as fresh as if 
coming from his hand yesterday. I also saw the 
41 Deposition," painted by Raphael when only seven- 
teen years old, three Carlo Dolci " Madonnas," and 
one by Sassoferrato that almost set me crazy. In 
another room I saw a portrait of Petrarch and 
Laura, which I should think can only be esteemed 
for its perfect representation of two intensely ugly 
personages. There are a few Titians here, a few 
Tintorettos, a few Veronese. Do you remember the 
" Rape of Europa" by Veronese, that we saw in the 
Doge's Palace in Venice ? There is a picture of the 
same name here in the Colonna Palace, by Albani; 
but it is not so fine. There are many villas open 
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dDemoir anb /JDemoriais 



to the public certain days in the week. They are 
not only models of architecture, but the grounds 
are lovely also. The statuary is beyond anything I 
have ever beheld, for we 've not yet seen the statuary 
in the Capitol and the Vatican, though I hope to do so 
this week. Do you remember the statue we saw in 
the Glyptothek at Munich of the " Vestal Virgin," by 
Tenerani ? I hear that there are several works by the 
same sculptor in one of the palaces here. Of the num- 
ber and variety of photographs offered for sale there 
is no end. I have bought a large one, to frame, of the 
Roman Forum. It gives, besides the Forum, a view 
of many other places of interest in the same neigh- 
borhood, among others the Column of Phocas, spoken 
of by Byron as " the nameless column with a buried 
base." Now the base is in full sight, for extensive 
excavations are being constantly made. 

I hope to reach Paris in about three weeks, but will 
not have time to stop anywhere except at Naples. Old 
Vesuvius is on a rampage, and they are daily expect- 
ing an eruption. Remember me to my friends. John 
says, " Tell papa that I wish I was at home." 
Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Fejervary 

Rome, March 1, 1876. 
My dear Miss Fejervary : 

Your last letter reached me just upon the eve of 
my departure for this place. After reading it care- 
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Buna price Dillon 



fully I put it away in my satchel for future use. 
We left Paris on the 2d of February, via Mont Cenis 
and Turin, for this place, where we arrived nearly a 
month ago, which is ample time to have seen much of 
Rome, had I not had the misfortune to have Johnnie 
fall sick four days after arriving. He took this most 
inconvenient time to have the measles, and I have 
been tucked beside his bed for three weeks, most of 
the time. However, since his convalescence, I have 
driven out, and have had a very few hasty glances 
at this wonderful old city, of which I have read and 
dreamed all my life. 

The weather is most charming, such as Hawthorne 
says "exists nowhere but in Paradise and Italy." 
One glorious day we drove for quite a long distance 
along the Appian Way out on to the Campagna. My 
sensations as I drove along this boulevard of the 
city of the dead I have no language to describe. The 
sun shone as it shines only in Italy. Through the 
blue atmosphere I saw the silvery, snow-crowned tops 
of the Albanian hills. In the distance the Claudian 
Aqueduct, moss-grown and crumbling, was distinctly 
seen. Near by me rose ' ' the stern round tower of 
other days," built to commemorate the life of only one 
woman. In the Baths of Caracalla I stood as one in 
a trance, so little had I conceived of this stupendous 
work. The Colosseum I have seen on three occasions, 
once in sunshine, once in storm, and once by the 
faint glimmer of the moon. Each time that I saw it 
I was more impressed than the time previous, and 
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could only gaze with bated breath, awe-stricken. 
Through the Palace of the Csesars I have made but 
one tour, but I feel that I cannot leave Eome con- 
tentedly without having seen it again. At the Golden 
House of Nero I looked, as I passed, with longing eyes, 
but did not venture to enter, for I felt that I dared 
not encounter the dampness of the underground 
passages. 

I have made but one visit to the Vatican, giving 
most of the time to the Sistine Chapel, where I could 
spend many days with pleasure. In " The Last 
Judgment" I was disappointed. Why was it so? 
Probably because I had expected too much. Of all 
the places I have seen in Eome, the Pincian Hill 
charmed me most. One evening at sunset I stood on 
the terrace where Hawthorne places Kenyon and 
Hilda in one of his beautiful descriptions, and saw 
the sun set behind the dome of St. Peter's. In this one 
sight I felt repaid for all fatigue endured in coming to 
Eome. Of the pictures I have as yet seen but few. In 
the Barber ini Palace, which is close by the hotel 
where I stop (the Bristol), I saw the far and justly 
famed " Cenci." The sadness of that lovely face 
still haunts me, and should I forget all else in Eome, 
the mute appeal of those sorrowful eyes will never 
leave me. 

St. Peter's is a volume of instruction and enjoy- 
ment in itself. I have been there three times, and 
am each time more impressed by the magnitude of 
the work and the wonderful genius of the man 
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who designed it. To-morrow, if Johnnie is well 
enough, I hope to get an hour for the Corsini Palace. 
But what an insignificant morsel of time in which to 
see the most attractive gallery in Rome ! But still, if 
God gives me back the health of my child, I must not 
complain; and although this illness has. in a great 
measure, frustrated my plans for improvement, I do 
not question the righteousness of it, but cheerfully 
submit. As soon as John can travel, we start for 
Naples, but only for a few days' visit, then back to 
Florence, Pisa, Nice, and Marseilles. My children 
write me every day— sometimes only a line to cheer 
me and satisfy me and to beseech me to have no con- 
cern about them, as they are well and getting on 
nicely with their studies. 

Although I am satisfied that this year abroad will 
result in permanent benefit to my children and my- 
self, yet. if I had known that I would be harassed by 
the innumerable anxieties which I have had, I never 
would have consented to stay without my husband. 
During the nights that I have walked the floor since 
Johnnie's illness, how my heart has yearned for my 
old home and all its comforts! Johnnie has borne 
his illness cheerfully. A few of the beautiful violets 
that are so plentiful here have often made him forget 
his pain, and many times while burning up with 
fever he has asked to have a bunch placed in his 
hand. I had always supposed, until a few days ago, 
that they were the production of greenhouses; but 
one bright morning, when I could steal from Johnnie's 
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bedside for an hour, I took a carriage and drove to 
the Borghese Villa; then, for the first time, did I know 
that they were wild, free, and abundant as the air and 
blessed sunshine. I cannot tell you how thankful I 
am for the little violets. I am pressing great bunches 
of them for my children, but still they will not de- 
light them as they would growing. 

I fear my letter is too long to be enjoyable, and so 
close by sending kind regards to Mr. and Mrs. Fejer- 
vary, and with much love to you, and many thanks 
for the kind letter which aided me so much in choos- 
ing what to see in Eome, especially as I could not see 
it all, I am, as ever, 

Your ardent friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

P. S. Knowing, as I do, your great fondness for 
violets, I inclose a few, but fear that by the time 
they reach you nothing will remain but their fra- 
grance. 

To John F. Dillon 

Florence, March 12, 1876. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you last Sunday from Naples, and you will 
see by the dates that I am on my way Par is- ward, 
where I hope to arrive next Saturday. At Naples we 
spent two days, then took the train for Castellamare, 
a little village lying about ten miles off across the 
bay. We stopped there in an old convent converted 
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into a hotel, built on a crag which can only be reached 
by a steep and zigzag winding way. That house is 
the queerest and most antiquated of any I have ever 
seen. It has nooks and corners, cells and dark 
rooms and gloomy passages, in which, I suppose, poor, 
distressed womanhood has done penance for many 
imaginary sins. On the terraces grew orange- and 
lemon-trees whose branches were breaking with the 
weight of their golden fruit. While at Castellamare 
we made excursions to Pompeii, Vesuvius, and Sor- 
rento. To visit Pompeii is like visiting a deserted 
graveyard. In a room of a house recently discovered, 
that had not yet been cleared of its dead and rubbish, 
a skeleton is seen doubled and twisted, showing the 
horrible death which came to its living tenant. Close 
by it, in the ground enriched by the decay of human 
flesh, grew ferns of great variety and beauty. The 
houses of Glaucus, Sallust, and Cornelius, with statuary 
and many articles and ornaments, still remain as they 
were eighteen hundred years ago, when they were 
buried. A few days before we came, a house was 
exhumed that had frescos as fresh and fine as many 
shown to-day in the palaces at Eome. 

One day, while at Castellamare, we took a closed 
carriage and made the ascent of Vesuvius to the Her- 
mitage, which is about two thirds of the height. 
Here Mrs. Renwick and John and I stopped until 
Mr. Renwick and some other Americans we found up 
there went to the top. I was deterred from going by 
your son, who would not consent to stay behind. 
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flDemoir ant) /IDemoriais 



Mrs. Adams, a day or two before, went to the top, a 
feat which few women are able to perform. Only 
those who have good backs and limbs and little flesh 
can do it, and nowadays I belong to that class, for 
John's last illness took off all my superfluous weight. 
The view, from the height where I was, was so grand 
and magnificent as to be perfectly overwhelming, 
and can only be described by an inspired pen. Mr. 
Renwick came down from the crater smelling 
strongly of sulphur and bringing a piece of it with 
him, which proved conclusively he had either been at 
Vesuvius or some other place where they use a good 
deal of it. 

The fields where the lava has devastated every- 
thing before it must be seen to be appreciated. For 
miles the eye rests on the black, weird, and con- 
torted shapes in which the lava has cooled. Gustave 
Dore would see serpents and every monstrosity 
that the imagination ever created, but it is sick- 
ening to think how many beings have been buried 
beneath this burning mass. At the Observatory is 
shown a list of the names of fifty-one persons who, 
on an excursion, were swallowed up. They had 
ascended to the foot of the cone, or that place where 
they leave horses and go on foot, and were contem- 
plating the scene generally, when the ground opened 
and they were engulfed, and the red-hot lava poured 
in upon them. This happened as late as 1872. 

The day after our arrival at Castellamare we went 
to Sorrento. Starting as early as half -past seven 
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Hnna iprice Dillon 



o'clock, we wound round the base of the huge up- 
rising rock upon which this village is situated, close 
beside the blue Mediterranean. Here it is, you will 
remember, that Mrs. Stowe has laid the scene of her 
" Agnes of Sorrento." This village is most beautiful, 
and unlike anything I 've ever seen. After reaching 
it, our way lay through streets lined on each side with 
orange- and lemon-trees, laden with the largest, yel- 
lowest, and juiciest oranges and lemons that I ever 
dreamed of, and they can be bought for nearly no- 
thing. Donkeys, bearing great panniers full of them, 
pass one by the dozens on their way to Naples. 
You must remember, the carrying of all kinds of 
produce is largely done here, not by vessels or 
wagons or rail, but by the donkeys and the women. 
At Sorrento is shown the house where Tasso lived; 
and here, as you know, the famous Sorrento wood- 
work is made. 

"We left Naples on Friday at noon, and came straight 
through to Florence without stopping. I was a little 
afraid to do so on John's account, but felt that I had 
been so long away from the girls that I must make 
an effort to get back to them. G-ive my love to Hymie, 
and let him read your letters, as I don't get time to 
write him. Remember me to all my friends. 
Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The letters which follow were written by Mrs. 
Dillon after her return from Italy to Paris. 
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To Mrs. McCullough 

Paris, 197 Rue Faubourg St. Honore, 
March 28, 1876. 
My dear Friend: 

Your welcome letters have both reached me; one 
came to me at Eome, the other since my return to 
Paris. The one which I received in Rome came just 
when I most needed it, cheering and comforting me, 
as only the kind letter of a dear friend can, in the 
dark hours which overtake us all in this world. I 
left Paris for Rome on the 2d of February, and 
arrived there on the morning of the 5th. I had put 
in a busy week sight-seeing, and had a fair prospect 
of knowing much of Rome by actual sight, when 
Johnnie took this most inopportune of all times to 
have the measles! Was not this seemingly a great 
misfortune ? I was much disappointed, and should 
have been never so blue had not the good old ortho- 
dox faith in which I was brought up taught me to 
believe that "all things are for the best." I was 
as cheerful as possible, consoling myself with a verse 
of Longfellow's " The Rainy Day " : 

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining ; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining. 
Thy fate is the common fate of all ; 
Into each life some rain must fall. 

I went earnestly to work reading everything I could 
get hold of pertaining to Rome and her surroundings, 

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and have the satisfaction to know that I turned the 
long, weary hours in the sick-room to a profitable 
end. During these days your letter reached me, to- 
gether with others from dear ones at home. How 
many hours I sat beside my fire, dreaming of home 
and friends, no one knows except my own heart. 

But now you want to hear something of Eome, the 
" City of the Seven Hills," the " Eternal City," the 
city where resides the great head of your church. 
But of Eome where shall I begin to tell?— Eome, with 
its narrow, filthy, sunless streets, lined with gorgeous 
palaces, which are filled with masterpieces of art 
from the hands of Eaphael, Guido, Domenichino, and 
Angelo— Eome, with its thousand villainous smells, 
which mingle with the incense of magnificent 
churches! I would that I had the power to give 
you but a faint idea of this wonderful old city. 
Of course, when I had fairly recovered from the 
fatigue of my long journey, my first visit was to St. 
Peter's. At first sight of this magnificent structure 
one suffers more or less disappointment; for, as he 
approaches the dome, that masterpiece of a master 
hand, it gradually sinks from view in consequence of 
being placed too far toward the distant end of the 
cross, in which form the church is built. Upon enter- 
ing, one's first impulse is to fall upon his knees, so 
overwhelmed is he with its immensity. The Colos- 
seum next claimed our attention, and we turned our 
steps thitherward. After reading, dreaming, think- 
ing of this wonderful old pile, I thought I should 
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recognize it as one does a long-time acquaintance. 
But no; it burst upon me in all its solitary gran- 
deur, completely overawing me, and suggesting more 
thoughts than ever found utterance within its mas- 
sive walls. 

When Johnnie's convalescence was fairly estab- 
lished, I went about the city considerably, and one day 
—an Italian day, when the sun shone "as it shines 
only in Italy and Paradise"— we took a drive out 
upon the Appian Way. Passing through the old Arch 
of Drusus and the Gate of St. Sebastian, we wandered 
out upon this old road, over which so many Roman 
emperors and armies have passed, through miles of 
ruined columns, tombs, and broken walls. In the 
blue distance was seen the Claudian Aqueduct, march- 
ing with stately strides over the Campagna. It was 
a day of pleasure and yet of sadness; for who does 
not experience a feeling of sorrow when witnessing 
the ruin and decay of former grandeur? 

After many days of enjoyment and profit, mingled 
with anxiety on Johnnie's account, we left Rome for 
Naples, and after eight hours' continuous travel, Ve- 
suvius appeared to our anxious sight, and, soon after- 
ward, the Bay of Naples, in all its transcendent 
loveliness. In Naples we spent but little time, as Ro- 
man fever prevails there. Taking the train for Castel- 
lamare, just one hour from Naples, we arrived at this 
quaint old village in time for a six-o' clock dinner. 
While here we made excursions to Vesuvius, Pompeii, 
Sorrento, and other places of less importance in the 
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neighborhood. Taking a carriage one bright morn- 
ing, we began the ascent of Vesuvius, through miles 
of lava, which, in cooling, had taken the most gro- 
tesque and hideous forms possible. On Johnnie's 
account I went no farther than the Hermitage, which 
is about two thirds of the way to the top. Here, being 
overtaken by a severe hail-storm, we stopped and 
partook of a lunch, preparatory to the gentlemen of 
the party making the remainder of the ascent, which 
had to be made on horseback or on foot. The view 
from this point transcends all others in grandeur 
and aw fulness, for awful it really is. One feels 
as if lifted into the clouds, from where he beholds 
all ' ' the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of 
them." 

At Pompeii one is brought face to face with the 
dead of so many centuries ago. The sensation, as 
one passes from street to street in this exhumed city, 
is a peculiar one. Everything about one speaks of a 
life once as active as any at the present, but now gone 
beyond all hope of a resurrection. In many of the 
houses the statuary and marble ornaments still 
remain. 

At Sorrento we spent the day— saw the house of 
Tasso and the world-renowned orange groves. Capri 
we did not visit, because of our short stay and the 
uncertainty of the weather. 

My letter is getting too long, and I know you are 
tired. I have just read it over, and find it so inter- 
lined I am ashamed; but if I keep it to rewrite, it 
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will not catch the steamer. With love to your family, 
I am, 

Your true and sincere friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

197 Faubourg St. Honore, Paris, 
May 12, 1876. 
My dear Friend : 

Your dear, good letter reached me some days ago, 
and would have been answered before this if I had 
been rightly settled. You do not know how sad it 
makes me to know that you are really away from 
Davenport. I had hoped that something would hap- 
pen to keep you there ; but the heading of your letter 
satisfies me that you are really gone, and there is one 
dear friend less in Davenport than when I left. I 
do not wish to make you unhappy, but I must tell 
you that you were very much liked in Davenport, 
and that you cannot possibly find more fervent friends 
than you left there. I shall hope to see you soon 
after getting home. You will by that time be wishing 
to go back to see your friends, and I hope to be there 
among them. May the Good Father grant us that 
pleasure. 

Hymie, I presume, sailed Wednesday for Europe, 
and is to-night on the ocean. How anxious I shall be 
till I hear of his arrival ! It is now only a little more 
than three months till I start home. Leafland is not 
sold yet, and I presume I shall go back there to live. 
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I shall think of you many times, and wish I could 
get you first by sending old Frank and the rockaway 
after you. 

I wrote you from Rome, and just at the time, I think, 
when Johnnie had the measles. I stopped for four 
weeks there, as I did not consider it safe to start 
with him before that time. I then went to Naples, 
and spent several days— visited Pompeii, Vesuvius, 
Castellamare, Sorrento. No one, however vivid his 
imagination, can give you any idea of southern Italy. 
No language, though ever so fervid, can make you feel 
the warmth and glow of an Italian sun, or the un- 
fathomable depths of blue of an Italian sky. Not- 
withstanding all obstacles in the way of any pleasure, 
Johnnie's illness and my own fatigue in consequence, 
I was intoxicated with its beauty all the time of my 
stay. The view of Naples, the bay, and all the sur- 
rounding country is one of the finest on the earth. 
As far as the eye can reach stretches the blue Medi- 
terranean, on whose placid bosom flit innumerable 
white sails, which resemble strongly the wings of 
gigantic sea-birds balancing over the sea. 

We spent one day at Pompeii. At Castellamare we 
stopped for two or three days, our hotel being an 
old convent situated on an eminence so great that we 
could only get to it by a difficult road along the side 
of a steep hill. But oh, when there, how well repaid 
we were for so tedious and toilsome a climb ! On one 
side, in the distance, smoking quietly, was Vesuvius ; 
on the other, the blue sea and the beautiful Isle of 
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Capri. If I live to get home, I can entertain you for 
hours, telling you of what I 've seen that I have not 
time to write. 

I had a letter from Mrs. Hills, in which she tells me 
she is actually going to housekeeping. What a little 
doll-house hers will be, and how much she and her 
friends will enjoy it! 

The children all send their love to you, Johnnie 

especially. 

Very lovingly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

About June 1, her son Hiram arrived in Paris, and 
remained with his mother until the return of the 
family to America in the latter part of August, 1876, 
as described in the letters. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

7 Rue de la Bienfaisance, Paris, June 21, 1876, 
five o'clock in the morning. 
My dear Friend : 

I have just risen in order to learn a French lesson ; 
but before commencing to study, I must drop you a 
line to say good morning, and to tell you that your 
welcome letter was received yesterday. I was much 
pleased to hear from you, and felt quite like a Daven- 
port er again after reading it. 

You will observe from the heading of my letter 
that I 'm again back at my old retreat for the fourth 
time. It has been to me a kind of home since I 've 
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been in Paris, and although I have left it each time 
to take up my abode in a French family for the pur- 
pose of learning to speak French (which, by the 
way, I have accomplished, but not perfectly), I find 
the lady of the ' ' American Hotel ' ' glad to see me, 
receiving me always with a smile. What I 've done 
and seen since last writing is hardly worth recount- 
ing. Johnnie has had his frequent sick spells, which, of 
course, have occupied me at the time ; since his recov- 
ery I spent my time in trying to keep up in my vari- 
ous studies, so that my children may see and realize 
that one is never too old to learn. 

Day before yesterday I was forty-one years old, and 
I must not forget to tell you of the surprise Hymie 
prepared for me. Arising from the breakfast-table, 
he said : ' ' Excuse me, mama ; I have business to at- 
tend to before I can go down into the city." I fin- 
ished my breakfast and went to my room, and there, 
upon my center-table, was displayed a beautiful set of 
majolica vases, and between them a large majolica 
bowl on a dark-blue standard. This was his present for 
my forty-first birthday. Beside it was a handsome 
cut-glass bottle and apparatus for showering per- 
fume, the gift of a Jewish lady [Mrs. Kaufman] with 
whom I had passed many pleasant days in one of my 
boarding-places. It is unnecessary to say that I was 
overcome, for I did not know that any one would 
remember my birthday, as I had not mentioned it 
myself. Hymie arrived here nearly three weeks 
ago, after visiting the Emerald Isle and Scotland. 
164 



PORTRAIT OF HER SON HIRAM, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 4889. 



/IDemoir ant> jflDemortals 



Poor fellow! how glad he was to get here and to see 
his mother! He has left my side scarcely for a mo- 
ment, although he fell in with some very pleasant 
young men in traveling, who have called twice upon 
him to go with them to ' ' see the sights. ' ' He prefers 
to go with me, for I know Paris pretty thoroughly. 
Saturday morning was the first and only time he has 
been away from me, and that was to select this 
present. 

Monday morning I took the girls out of school, and 
at seven o'clock that same evening the two Susies 
and Hymie left, in company with some friends, for a 
little tour through Switzerland and down the Rhine. 
Hymie will probably leave his sisters with our friends 
in Lucerne, and make a flying tour to the Italian lakes, 
and to Milan and Venice. May the Good Father bring 
them all back safely. I have with me my daughter 
who is known in Davenport as ' ' little Annie. ' ' She 
is little no longer— tall as her mother, and not yet 
twelve years old. She will be, I think, something 
more than ordinary in the way of a musician, and she 
speaks French well. Susie is as tall as Mrs. Martin, 
and is very much improved in looks; for you know 
she was quite plain as a child. She plays very well, 
and can speak French surprisingly, and has evinced 
quite a taste and talent for drawing. I 'm having 
some of her pictures framed to bring home. If I had 
no ties in Davenport I should compel myself to stay 
here another year for the sake of the advantage it 
would be to my children. Susie Price is delicate, 
165 



Hnna price Dillon 



beautiful as her mother, and as affectionate as a 
child can be. She speaks French like a native. She 
will still make her home with me, although her 
father is writing her constantly about staying in 
New York at the Sacred Heart for a year. She 
does not like the idea of being separated from Susie 
Dillon, and I presume she will have her own way. 

I read the papers with much interest about the time 
of the Library election. I hope the Library will 
thrive. Keep constantly in mind, but make no noise 
about, Mrs. Cook's intentions. Tell Mrs. Peck, for 
me, that I heartily rejoice in her popularity as presi- 
dent [of the Library Association], first, because I think 
she deserves it, and secondly, because I predicted it 
when I was trying to persuade her not to resign the 
vice-presidency. We are all weak enough to wish our 
predictions verified. 

I owe Mrs. Wadsworth, Mrs. "Wing, and Fanny Mc- 
Manus letters, which I intend to answer tout de suite. 
Give my love to them. Just think ; two months more 
and I 'm almost home! I wonder if good people who 
have been sick a long time don't think the same thing 
about going to heaven. I 'm only waiting for a few 
more weeks to pass, and then, please God, I shall be in 
the midst of my friends and at home. I shall never for- 
get my sensations the morning we sailed out of New 
York harbor. There passed us inside the bar, with 
flags flying and every demonstration of joy, the good 
ship Bothnia, full of people getting home; and I 
thought then, that must be the same feeling people 
166 



/SDemoir anfc /l&emorials 



experience when, after a long, weary, and anxious 
voyage over life's sea, they sail joyously into the 
haven they have looked forward to, and rejoice to 
find themselves there without a shipwreck of faith. 
Give my love to your sister. Tell her, if it were pos- 
sible to get a bouquet to America fresh and green, 
I 'd undertake it just to have her see how beautiful 
they are here. No one who has not seen the flowers 
of this moist climate can conceive to what perfec- 
tion they grow. My husband sent me, last week, 
a few pressed flowers planted by my own hand at 
Leafland. I wish you would drive down there occa- 
sionally and get some. Remember me to Willie and 
your husband, and believe me, 

Always your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Some anxiety concerning a possible fatal disaster 
on the ocean, such as twenty-two years afterward 
befell Mrs. Dillon and her daughter, doubtless led her, 
on the eve of sailing, to write to her husband in New 
York the letter which next follows— the last of her 
letters written on her first visit to Europe. 

To John F. Dillon 

Liverpool, August 16, 1876. 
Dear Johnnie : 

We reached here to-day at half -past one. We left 
London at eleven o'clock Monday, and arrived at 
Leamington in the afternoon. We had dinner, and 
167 



Buna ©rice Billon 



immediately took a wagonette and drove to Kenil- 
worth Castle. The drive was a lovely one, through the 
most beautiful country I ever saw, every inch of the 
ground under the most complete cultivation "up to 
the very edge of the road. ' ' I was much disappointed 
in Kenilworth, though it may have arisen from the 
fact of its being more of a ruin than I anticipated. In 
its palmiest days it was no match for Heidelberg 
Castle. Yesterday we took the train for Warwick 
Castle ; arrived at the village of that name after seven 
minutes, and then walked about a mile to the castle. 
It is a gigantic as well as magnificent building, in a 
perfect state of preservation, and the grounds prove 
that there is the greatest care given them. It is fur- 
nished in a princely manner, and from the windows 
of one side one overlooks the Avon and the beautiful 
country beyond. 

At ten o'clock we retook the train and went in 
thirty-five minutes to Stratford-on-Avon. Here a 
coachman cheated us into taking a cab by telling 
us that it was a walk of three quarters of an hour 
to Shakspere's house, when in reality it was not over 
ten minutes. The house is literally tumbling down, 
and has been stayed in many places by iron rods pass- 
ing through. The same chimney-place and the corner 
where Shakspere used to sit when a youngster are still 
there. Johnnie ensconced himself in the corner as 
comfortably as ever did the great man himself. We 
were shown the first sheets of some of his plays, 
among them " The Merchant of Venice," which cost 
168 



flDemoir anfc ZlDemortals 



one hundred guineas. I saw where Sir Walter Scott 
wrote with his diamond his name on the window- 
pane of the room in which Shakspere was born, also 
some lines written by Washington Irving on the oc- 
casion of his second visit. After leaving the house, 
we walked about three quarters of a mile to the 
church where Shakspere is buried; then we walked 
back to the depot and took the train for Leamington, 
arriving at seven o'clock, in time for dinner. 

If I were sure, Johnnie, that I would arrive home 
in safety, I should wait to tell you all that I have 
written. In case any accident should occur, and we 
never meet on earth, I must assure you that the chil- 
dren and I are all jubilant in the hope of getting 
home to you. With kind remembrances to all my 
friends and a heart full of love for you, I, with the 
children, join in saying good-by till we meet again, 
either in this world or in a better one. 
Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Dillon returned to Leafland on September 21, 
as stated in Chapter II, and her home-coming and 
warm welcome are recounted in the following letter. 
The last letter of the husband to his wife and children 
prior to their return is given in the margin. 1 

1 " ^eafland, August 5, 1876. 
"My dear Wife and Children: 

"I have been running over in my mind the chances of this letter 
reaching you. They are against it, but not wholly, so I risk sending 
it. I have just received a despatch from Sidney Dillon, from Council 
Bluffs, stating that he and family will breakfast at the Burtis in the 
morning, and asking me to come and see them. The train will go 

169 



Hnna price Dillon 



To Mrs. Silsbee 



Burtis House, Davenport, Iowa, 
November 23, 1876. 
My dear Friend : 

If I did not know how kind and long-suffering you 
are, I should not dare to write you after such a long 
silence, but I know how good you are, and when you 
have heard my defense you '11 forgive my seeming 
neglect. I arrived at home on the 21st of September, 
worn and weary, but oh ! so thankful to the kind Fa- 
ther of all that He brought me in safety to my native 
land and dear ones. I was sick and totally unable to 
be up and dressed a whole day for three weeks after 
my return; then visits and unpacking, and, finally, 
moving up here to pass the winter months, have taken 
all my time. 

My husband met me ten miles from New York, 
coming out on a revenue cutter. We landed in 
Jersey City, took dinner, and hurried over to Phila- 

on, and I will get Uncle Sidney to carry this letter with him to Chi- 
cago, if I can't mail it on the train. I have little additional news since 
my last. I have been busy this week writing and fixing up things for 
your return. I have finished my article for the " Law Journal," one 
hundred and fifty pages of manuscript, and will send it off soon. I 'm 
having the rockaway revamped and made new. It will soon realize 
Sydney Smith's idea of his "Immortal." If old Frank could be made 
over young and new, it would reduce his size and add to his speed. 
I 've had some of the furniture varnished, the cellar cleaned, and 
things are now in pretty good shape for your coming. Bon voyage to 
you all. I hope to see you soon in your own country. May God fold 
you all in the arms of His love and care. 

" Affectionately yours, 

"John F. Dillon." 

170 



/IDemoir anb /iDemoriais 



delphia, where we passed three days at the Centen- 
nial. The heat was intense, and the worry of travel 
and seasickness had entirely unfitted me for sight- 
seeing on this side of the water. I did not enjoy any- 
thing. I brought home with me seven children— my 
own five, and Mr. Collier's two sons, who had been at 
Heidelberg for nearly three years. You know it is 
no easy matter to engineer such a party as mine 
through France and parts of England, and across the 
broad water, without fatigue. 

The word ' ' home ' ' never had so much music in it as 
in the sixteen months I was away. When I did arrive 
at that blessed spot, kind friends had decorated my 
house from end to end with flowers. Over the door 
leading from hall to dining-room, in large letters of 
evergreen, was the word " welcome." I need not tell 
you it touched my heart, and how I indulged in a good, 
hearty cry that took away all my remaining strength. 
I thought of the day I left my home, and of your stand- 
ing on the step to say a last good-by, and I could not 
be reconciled that you were not there to take me by 
the hand, to lead me in, and tell me you were glad to 
see me. I thought of much that was sad and much 
that was pleasant, and thinking was too much for 
me. I had to go to bed to get rested and think it 
all over. 

Now that I 'm well and settled in this wretched 

place for the winter, I begin to look over the pile of 

letters that have accumulated since I came back, and 

have begun the good work of replying by first an- 

171 



Hnna price Billon 



swering yours. Now that I 've told you all about my- 
self, I want to know where you are and how you are. 

My children have grown wonderfully. Susie is 
taller than I, and Annie quite as tall. Johnnie is per- 
fectly well and goes to school every day. He is quite 
large and manly. I never can tell you how grate- 
ful I am to you for taking my house and keeping 
it in such good order. Everything looks fresh and 
new. I saw many little things around that reminded 
me of you, and it seemed to me that you must walk in 
from some place and speak to me. For the nice new 
mattress you left me I am greatly obliged, and hope 
that before long I shall have the pleasure of making 
it up for you to sleep on. Mrs. Hills 's house is a per- 
fect representation of herself. It is little, neat, and 
complete in all its appointments. She was in to see 
me this afternoon. We spent quite a length of time 
talking of you, and wishing that something would 
turn up to bring you back to us. 

Mrs. Putnam returned home from a long tour 
with Duncan about two weeks ago. Duncan is much 
the same, except that his feet swell badly, which, in 
cases like this, is a sure sign, and one of the last 
symptoms, of approaching death. 

The Library gave another of its dinners last week, 
and realized about a hundred and fifty dollars. 

To-morrow there is a lunch at Mrs. Ballou's. I ex- 
pect to go. How I wish you were to be one of the 
guests! I suppose you do not know that Hymie 
has left us. He has settled permanently in Topeka, 

172 



/IDemotr an& flDemottals 



Kansas, put out his sign, and is going to practise law. 
Having him leave me at a time when he was old 
enough to be companionable, and, in a measure, make 
it easier to have his father away, is one of the great- 
est trials of my life; and if it were not for my vows, 
on the other side the ocean, that if I were spared to 
get home I would not complain or find fault with 
anything that might come to me, I should be very 
unhappy about it. When I find out where you are, I 
want to send you a souvenir of my trip abroad. I 
should have done that long ago, only that I was afraid 
it would never reach you. 

Remember me to your husband, and write me soon 
and tell me you like me and like to hear from me, for 
I am, ever sincerely, 

Your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

In the following letter Mrs. Dillon refers to a visit 
which she and her husband made to their son at To- 
peka, and to a trip to Colorado, and to her election 
as president of the Ladies' Christian Association. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

Burtis House, Davenport, 
Thursday, December 21, 1876. 
My dear Friend : 

Your welcome letter came to me yesterday morning 
at the same time as one from Mrs. Barnard. Was I 
not in luck? Your letters have put me in such a good 

173 



Hnna iprfce Dillon 



humor, and inspired me with such a desire to talk to 
you, that I 've seated myself for a good chat. Since 
writing you last I have been in Kansas and Colorado. 
As the latter State has recently been added to my 
husband's circuit, he was compelled to go there this 
winter to organize the court. After spending a few 
days with Hymie, we started; and oh, what a de- 
lightful time I had ! Not a cloud nor the sign of cold 
did I see from the time I left Davenport till I returned. 
The weather in Colorado is nearly all the winter as 
pleasant as that which ive have in November. Many 
people called upon us, showed us much attention, and 
made our visit very pleasant. If we live, and all 
things go as we hope, we shall go out there next sum- 
mer to spend a couple of months. 

By the way, when are you coming to Davenport 
to make that visit we mutually agreed upon when 
we were separated by the wide ocean? I don't 
want you to come while I 'm penned up in this 
house, but I do want you as soon as I get back 
home and the pleasant days come in May. Then I 
want you, and I want you all to myself. Is that 
selfish? We have not yet sold Leafland— don't think 
we ever will; but I '11 not complain. I 've too much 
given me to groan about so small a thing as not sell- 
ing our house. I went up to see Mrs. Hills to-day, 
and told her about your letter. We talked about you 
a long time. She wishes very much that you would 
come and make her a visit. She lives very nicely. 
Everything about her is neat and tidy, like herself. 
174 



flDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



Yes ! I have been elected president of the Ladies' 
Christian Association, and I cannot say that I feel com- 
plimented. I am put at the head of every organiza- 
tion which is dying in this place, fco try and revive it. 
We are in a very low state, and in considering its 
condition, the prophet's question, " Can these dry 
bones live?" is strongly suggested to me. I wish 
you were here to stand by me and help me with your 
prayers and kind words. Do tell me something on 
which to build the hope of having you again. 

What are you going to do Christmas and New Year's? 
I expect to spend New Year's with Mrs. Frank Smith. 
We traveled together in Europe, and are more than 
fast friends. I 'm glad you find your health so much 
improved— hope you '11 never have any more sick- 
ness. I send by same mail some knickknacks which 
I brought home for you, but as long as I was too 
miserable to send them when I first came back, I 've 
held them over till Christmas. I send also a copy of 
myself. 1 Tell me how you like me. Do you see 
anything Parisian? Don't you think I 'm the same 
old sixpence % Eemember me to Mr. Silsbee, and 
don't forget to write me, for your letters do me a 
world of good. 

Your devoted friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

1 This refers to the picture taken in Paris in 1876, mentioned on a 
previous page. See Chapter I, p. 40, and note. 



175 



CHAPTER IV 

LIFE AT LEAFLAND AND IN ST. LOUIS 

1876-79 

First winter in St. Louis — Social life — Second winter in St. Louis — 
Friendships and social life — Silver wedding at Leafland — Daughter's 
lameness — Sale of Leafland — Removal to New York. 

LETTERS TO MRS. McCULLOUGH AND MRS. SILSBEE 

N the return of Mrs. Dillon and children 
1 from Europe, as previously mentioned, 1 the 
M family spent the fall of 1876 at Leafland, 
the winter of 1876-77 at the Burtis House in Daven- 
port, the spring and summer of 1877 at Leafland, the 
winter of 1877-78 at St. Louis, -living first at 3212 
Olive Street, and afterward at 2326 on the same 
street,— and the summer and fall of 1878 at Leafland. 
On November 5, 1878, the son Hiram was married, 
at Jacksonville, Illinois, to Miss Susie Brown. 

Mrs. Dillon and husband celebrated their silver 
wedding at Leafland on Tuesday, November 12, in- 

1 See Chapter II, p. 89 ; Chapter III, p. 169. 
176 




flDemoir anfc /IDemorfals 



stead of the 10th (the real anniversary), as the latter 
day fell on Sunday. The only record by Mrs. Dillon 
of this event is found in a letter, fortunately pre- 
served, written December 16, 1878, giving interesting 
details to Mrs. Silsbee, who was unable to be present. 

A short time before this Leafland had been sold, 
with a view to a contemplated removal by the fam- 
ily to St. Louis. 1 

In the last week of November, 1878, the family 
went to St. Louis to reside, at least for the winter, 
taking rooms again at 2326 Olive Street. While there, 
in the spring of 1879, her husband was tendered, 
through the Hon. Hamilton Fish, acting for Columbia 
College, New York, a law professorship therein, at a 
salary considerably larger than he was receiving as 
Federal Judge. The importance of the change was 
appreciated, and, before acting, Mrs. Dillon and her 
husband visited New York, in May, 1879, to examine 
into the matter on the ground. The object of the 
change, if made, was to secure an adequate provision 
for the family, in case of the father's death. After 
investigation it was found that, owing to the greater 
cost of living, the increased compensation of the pro- 
fessorship would not materially aid in effecting the 
desired object, and accordingly it was at first decided 
to decline the offer and not to remove to New York. It 
was only when the college offer was supplemented 
with the tender of the place of general counsel to im- 
portant railway companies, at a liberal salary, with 

i See Chapter I, pp. 16-19. 

177 



Hnna price Dillon 



the added privilege of acting as chamber counsel and 
of arguing causes in the Appellate Courts of the State 
and in the Supreme Court of the United States, that 
the removal to New York was finally resolved upon. 

In August, 1879, while on their way to Des Moines, 
the father and the daughter Annie barely escaped 
death in the frightful railway accident at Four Mile 
Creek, just east of that city, where the whole train 
except the sleeper was precipitated into the stream, 
and many lives were lost. 1 

The family reached New York in September, 1879. 
taking up their residence at 716 Madison Avenue, 
and afterward at No. 671. 2 



i The following contemporary account was written to Mrs. Dillon by 
her husband : 

"Des Moines, Wednesday, August 29, 1879 (8 p. m.). 
" My dear Wife : 

" The papers will tell you all the general news connected with the fated 
train on which Annie and I were. I cannot describe to you the 
terrible scene — midnight, raining with the utmost violence, dark, and 
a rapid and resistless stream of water into which the whole train, ex- 
cept the sleeper, on which we were, was plunged. I had just been 
roused by the porter to get up and dress for Des Moines. I was sitting 
in the upper berth, putting on my stockings. Annie had risen, and 
when I called to her she was just getting up from the floor of the car, 
to which she had been violently thrown by the shock. No one in 
the sleeper was injured. We did not reach Des Moines until one 
o'clock. Judge Cole was at the cars, and took Annie home with him. 
I went to see her for a minute after supper to-day, and found her quite 
composed and cheerful. Judge Love got a despatch that his son was 
on the train, and for a half-hour he believed he was dead; but it turned 
out that although he intended to take the train at Grinnell, for- 
tunately he missed it. I sent you at once a despatch from Altoona, 
one mile from the scene of the disaster, so that you would know that 
we were safe before you had read of the accident in the morning 
Papers. Very affectionately. 

"Your husband, 

"John F. DrtLON." 

2 See Chapter I, p. 19. 

178 



dDemotr anfc /Ifcemorials 



The St. Louis letters of 1877, 1878, and 1879, given 
in this chapter, fully describe Mrs. Dillon's domestic 
and social life in that city. Here she made many 
warm and lasting friends, among them Mrs. Treat, 
Mrs. Filley, Mrs. Pollak, Mrs. Ware, Mrs. Gerard 
Allen, and the lamented Mrs. Gantt, wife of Colonel, 
afterward Judge, Thomas T. Gantt, with whom she 
continued to correspond. Unfortunately, the letters 
of Mrs. Dillon to Mrs. Gantt and her other friends 
in St. Louis are not recoverable. Mrs. Dillon always 
looked back upon her two winters in that city as 
among the pleasant est of her life, although her own 
health was not the best, and her daughter Annie was 
a great sufferer. 

The letters in this chapter relate essentially to the 
social and domestic life of the writer, and for this pre- 
cise reason they have a special autobiographical inter- 
est and value. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

3212 Olive Street, St. Louis, 

November 11, 1877. 

. . . We are very pleasantly located here. The 

house is very large, situated upon a fashionable 

street. The table is good and much above par. My 

brother is furious that we did not come to him, and 

threatens to cut our acquaintance. Remember me to 

your family, and, like a dear, good woman, write me 

often. . . . 

A. P. D. 

179 



Hnna price Dillon 



To Mrs. McCullough 

3212 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
Sunday, November 16, 1877. 
My dear Friend : 

How long it seems since I last talked with you! 
Sitting here this Sunday afternoon, it seems a year 
since I left Davenport. Not that I 've been moping 
about, homesick, or giving myself up to loneliness, 
for I have been out every day and have had plenty of 
calls. But I yearn for a little chat with you, and I 
feel that, whatever else I may have given me, nothing 
supplies that want. 

Last week Mrs. Treat, wife of the United States 
District Judge, gave a kettledrum in my honor; 
and, I assure you, I met some lovely people. The 
refreshments were served to the guests, some sit- 
ting and some standing, some with bonnets and 
shawls on and some with them off, just as suited 
the fancy of the individual. I imagine that each 
lady appeared as she thought she looked best. 
Dainty Japanese cups held the beverages, of which 
there was nothing stronger than delicious old mocha. 
Oyster patties, steaming hot from the oven, were the 
" chief of our diet," while all the other things that 
are proper on such occasions were passed and used to 
fill up the interstices. The sweets were offered in 
good time, prominent among which was home-made 
sponge-cake, smoking hot. It was a distingue as- 
180 



fl&emoir anfc /iDemortais 



semblage and delightful occasion, and I enjoyed it 
thoroughly, although, while dressing to go, I had 
to sit down every five minutes to hush my heart- 
beats, I was so frightened at the thought of going 
out into a new world. 

How is the weather in Davenport? Here it is 
delightful— sunshine and no wind, just cool enough 
for one's India shawl to be displayed. Did you go 
to dinner at Mrs. Foster's ? How is Mrs. Silsbee ? 
My poor, dear friend! how it did hurt me to have 
to run away from her the next morning after her 
arrival, when she had traveled that long way just to 
spend a night with me ! Did Frank get a letter from 
John? He wishes to know why he does n't answer. 
Hymie is here spending a few days with us. My 
husband left us for his courts two days after arriving 
here. I don't expect to see him until the middle of 
December. You are a dear, good woman to write me 
so often. If ever you leave Davenport I '11 be just as 
good. Eemember me to all my friends and to your 
family. Give my best and warmest love to the Rev- 
erend Mother. 1 Tell her that nothing but the mud 
prevented my getting out to the hospital to see her. 
With much love, I am, 

Your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Dillon preserved the letter given in the foot- 
note, written to her at this time by her nine-year- 

1 Mrs. Dillon was in the habit of going out to Mercy Hospital to see 
the Superior, whom she, in her letters, calls the " Reverend Mother." 

181 



Hnna price JDfllon 



old boy, who, en route to Topeka to see his brother, 
accompanied his father to court at Jefferson City. 1 
In the six letters which follow Mrs. Dillon gives 
some additional particulars of her domestic and social 
life m St. Louis in the winter of 1877-78. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

3212 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
Sunday, December 16, 1877. 
My dear Friend : 

I reached here safe on the Friday morning after 
leaving Davenport. My husband and Johnnie were at 
the depot, where they had arrived an hour before from 

1 "Jefferson City, Missouri, November 26, 1877. 
"Dear Mama: 

" We got here at three o'clock and saw the State prison as we came in 
on the cars. Papa sends love to all, and I do too. We are going away 
to-morrow afternoon to Topeka. When you go home to Davenport, if 
you or any of you see the Grahams, will you ask for my knife, and please 
don't forget it. I am going to write to you to-morrow and every day 
we are gone away. Tell Susie she must write to me. When we got to 
the U. S. Court-House, I saw a man with some clothes on and they 
were all striped, even his mittens were all striped. You must write to 
me. Give my love to Jimmy Graham. Good-by. 

" Johnnie M. Dillon." 

At the foot of the above, on the same page, was the following : 
"Dear Wife: 

" Johnnie wrote and spelled and composed this himself. We get along 
all right. He sticks to me closer than a brother. During court hours 
he takes his place at the foot of the steps leading to the bench where 
the learned judges sit, and amuses himself as best he can. Occasion- 
ally he comes unawed up to the chair where I sit, demands his privi- 
lege, plucks my sleeve, and, in the face and amid the smiles of the 
bar, interrupts the learned counsel who may be addressing the court 
by whispering to me his little question or petition. He is a little 
hoarse and his throat a little sore. I guess he will come all right. 
" Affectionately yours, 

"John F. Dillon." 

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flfoemoir ant> /IDemortals 



Kansas. Knowing that I was always on time, they did 
not go up to the house, but sat patiently waiting for 
the Rock Island train. How disappointed they would 
have been had I yielded to my friends and stopped 
over for a day or two! Friday I was miserable all 
day. Early in the afternoon I went to bed, where I 
have been ever since. To-day is the first time I've been 
up and dressed since then. My trouble was the old 
one of stomach. I am quite prostrated, and am not 
able to write much. My husband stopped two days 
over his time, in the hope that I would be able to go 
with him to court at St. Paul, insisting that the trip 
would do me good. Finally he came to the conclusion 
that I had had too much dissipation, and started 
without me. You would laugh to see how thin I 
have grown in the short time. I don't think I would 
have any trouble to get into my velvet dress now. 

I hope you will stay in Davenport all the time. 
It looks now as if I should not go back there to live, 
but you stay anyhow. Every one loves you, and one 
should live among one's friends. It seems probable 
now that Congress will create a new court, to be 
called an Appellate Court. My husband, being the 
oldest judge in appointment, would be presiding 
judge. Then his work would be in St. Louis almost 
exclusively, and we would live here. If there is no 
change made, we shall go back to Leafland. Write 
me about yourself —where you are and what you ex- 
pect to do. I shall always be interested in you and 
love you dearly, though we should live at the ex- 

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Hnna price Dillon 



treme points of the compass. Nothing can ever 
change my love for you but your own self, and this 
I know you will never do. 

Very sincerely and lovingly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

St. Louis, December 16, 1877. 
My dear Friend : 

... I was disappointed not to see you before I left, 
but well knew there was something you could not con- 
trol which prevented. It never entered my head that 
you did not wish to see me. You know my peculiarity : 
my friends have no faults and never do wrong; no 
one can change my opinion of them but they them- 
selves. But when the tide does set the other way, 
' ' may Heaven defend them ! " I am implacable. One 
night, since coming to St. Louis, my husband and I 
were discussing people, their peculiarities and failings, 
I sitting with feet upon the fender, he pacing the 
floor behind me. I wound up my remarks by saying, 
' ' Well, every one has his faults. " " Yes, ' ' he replied, 
with a sigh of resignation— " every one but Mrs. 
McCullough." I only relate this to show how all 
my family know the weakness in my character— to 
see no ill in my friends and no good in my enemies. 
It is unnecessary to say I pommeled him good for 
making sport of me. . . . 

Ever affectionately yours, 

A. P. D. 

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flDemoir ant) Memorials 



To Mrs. McCullough 

3212 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
Sunday, January 13, 1878. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter was received a long time since, but the 
hope that I might be able to say that I had fully re- 
covered my health led me to postpone writing you. 
I am now quite well for the first time since coming 
back from Davenport. I say ivell, and so I am, by 
being very careful about my eating. When I am able 
to go out at all, I 'm never at home. 

No one person, I dare say, has ever received more 
kindness and attention from others than I have since 
I have been here. We have invitations for every 
day in the week, and sometimes two in a day. Susie 
often accompanies us, and seems to fulfil Mrs. O'Sul- 
livan's prophecy concerning her: she certainly does 
"take well." New Year's she received calls with 
Mrs. Lackland, and I have heard a hundred compli- 
ments for her since, and through her being out that 
day she has had several invitations to the opera, 
theater, and parties. (This is for your eye only; 
don't read it to the family; it would sound very flat 
to any except those interested in her.) New Year's 
Day I did not go out at all, except to take a quiet 
walk with my husband in the suburbs. He had 
just returned from Chicago, and declined all invita- 
tions on account of my feebleness. I was quite anx- 
185 



Hnna price Dillon 



ious to have him attend a large dinner-party given to 
General Sherman, but because I was not able to ac- 
cept any invitations to receive with the ladies, he 
would not leave me. Was n't that a good speech he 
made in Chicago? 

I wish I had time to tell you of all the nice people 
I 've met since coming here. Some of them I have 
told about you, and have promised them they shall 
see you. Mrs. Judge Lord, now a widow, is a dear 
friend of Mrs. Judge Treat, is a Catholic and a lovely 
Christian. Miss Eustace, about thirty-five years old, 
is a Catholic, and was born in Ireland. She is refined 
and good, is an intimate friend of Mrs. Sherman's, 
and spends much time at her house here when it is 
open. Mrs. Hugh Campbell was born in Ireland, and 
is one of the most elegant women I have ever met. 
If you had seen her the other night, as I saw her, at 
a state dinner given by Mrs. Eobert Campbell to Sir 
Peter Coates, you would have been more proud of 
your country and people than ever. The dinner was 
the grandest affair I ever attended. 

If it will be interesting to you, I will give you my 
program for the present week. To-morrow (Monday), 
with a party of ladies, I am to visit two of the kinder- 
gartens; then we all go to lunch with one of the 
ladies; in the afternoon we attend a lecture on art. 
Tuesday morning our French teacher (a veritable 
countess) meets a few persons at my rooms to talk 
French. Wednesday there is a large tea-party. 
Thursday is French Club day, when we have a French 
186 



/iDemoir ant) flDemoriais 



play and conversation, with coffee and cake, and a 
good deal of fun. Friday there is a dinner-party, and 
I want to make some calls besides. Saturday I go to 
Judge Lindley's. So you see I have no time for any- 
thing else that may happen. Up to this date I have 
had little leisure time to read or study. Leafland is 
the best place for that. My letter has grown to be 
quite a lengthy one, and, I fear, is not very interest- 
ing, but it is only for you and none else. Kind re- 
gards to all the family, and much love. 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

P. S. Give my love to the Eeverend Mother. Tell 
her I think I shall be ready to go into ' ' retreat ' ' 
when I get back, for I shall be so tired. 

A. P. D. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

2326 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
Monday, February 18, 1878. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter came to me a few days before I went 
to Kansas to visit Hymie. I was there ten days and 
enjoyed myself intensely. The climate seemed to 
agree with me better than this, and I was quite as 
well as when at Davenport. Probably one reason of 
it was that I rested, to a great extent, from visits and 
calls, not having nearly so many as I have here. 
Your letter was a great comfort to me. It gave me 

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Hnna price Billon 



much news from Davenport, and satisfied me that 
you are a fixture there, for the winter at least. 

I had a good long letter from Mrs. Wads^orth, and 
gather from it that they take the death of Mrs. Shaler 
with more resignation than their mother's. It was a 
hard blow, and I felt that I could sympathize with 
them to the full extent. No doubt her friends all 
feel her death, for I am told she was a most lovely 
character. I think, from what I hear, that Daven- 
port must be dull this winter, and I sometimes long 
for the quiet that comes from a lull in so much visit- 
ing. Do you know, my dear friend, that I am worn 
out— just literally worn out— with going so much ? 
While I appreciate the kind feeling that prompts so 
much attention, this manner of life cloys me, and I 
long for a few restful days at Leafland. My quiet, 
domestic life with my children has not fitted me for 
gaiety and such a whirl of pleasure— I call it the op- 
posite of pleasure. It is almost frivolity. Yesterday 
a lady called, who said, " I wanted to know you, for 
every one who has met you is delighted." That is 
gratifying, is n't it?— if I could only believe it, which 
I could not do. 

My husband is in Iowa City now, lecturing at the 
university, and will probably have time to call upon 
you as he returns through Davenport. How I wish I 
was housekeeping, so that I could have a visit from 
you, and some of our delightful talks ! I could always 
tell you everything. How come on my friends 
Mrs. Hills, Mrs. Bills, and their good husbands ? Re- 
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/iDemoir ant) /IDemortals 



member me to them, to Mrs. Wadsworth, to Mrs. 
McCullough, and to Mr. Silsbee; and love me ever, 
for I am, truly, Your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

2326 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
March 15, 1878. 
My dear Friend : 

If my heart did not so thoroughly repose and trust 
in you, I should fear that my long silence had es- 
tranged you. Two letters are before me unanswered. 
They were received and read with gladness, and 
would have been answered only for the many, many 
things which come to occupy me the little time I am 
well. When my husband came home from Iowa City 
he found me confined to my bed with serious trouble 
of the liver. I am feeling and looking better now than 
at any time since my return from Davenport. I am 
quite anxious to see you. My husband says your hair 
is so beautiful. Not to see your hair only, but to have 
another good long talk, to tell you what I think of 
the people who have certainly exerted themselves to 
make me like them. I venture to say that no woman 
has ever been received anywhere with more consider- 
ation than I have here. There is even now no end to 
invitations to drive, to lunch, to dinner, to tea, to 
matinee, to theater, to be present at debates, to take 
part in the discussion of a paper which will be read, 
etc. So you see how it goes. There is no let up. To 

189 



Bnna price Dillon 



be frank, I think that the amount of going I have done 
has had much to do with my miserable health. There 
is no rest. 

A few days ago a committee waited upon me to 
know if I would become a member of the board of 
directors of the School of Design. But I politely de- 
clined, saying that I was not competent to render any 
service, and that I should only be here a few weeks 
longer. Shortly after that I saw, to my surprise, that 
I had been put on the board by unanimous vote. 
Then came a card from the secretary, informing me 
of my election, and that my presence was earnestly 
requested at the next meeting of a certain date. My 
husband is determined that I shall serve on this board, 
and I have determined that I will not. 

Johnnie is lying quite ill with rheumatism. He is 
a very sick child and requires much care. While I 
am sorry to have him ill, I must say that I enjoy 
the respite it gives me from visits. I have declined 
two invitations to-day because of it, and I know no 
one will take offense. John is crying in bed to have 
me read to him, and I want to post my letter to-night. 
He is wild to see Frank and Will, and talks about 
them constantly. We do not dare to tell him that 
his dog is dead. Judge Grant wrote me a kind letter 
promising me another collie for John next summer. 
Give my best regards to your family and the Rev- 
erend Mother. Forgive my long silence and write me 
soon. Very lovingly, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

190 



/IDemotr anfc /IDentorials 



To Mrs. McCullough 

St. Louis, March 20, 1878. 

Dear Mrs. McCullough: 

I wrote you quite a long letter a few days ago, and 
yesterday posted you the paper containing my hus- 
band's St. Patrick's Day speech and the menu. I now 
write to say that I will send you to-morrow by mail 
a potato from the box that was sent over from Ireland. 
Each guest found one, wrapped just as you see yours, 
on his plate the night of the banquet. Inclosed find 
a leaf of the shamrock that was sent to the president 
of the Society of the Knights of St. Patrick, as men- 
tioned in the letter published. John is up again and 
dressed; he looks wretched. The weather here is 
lovely, the trees in bloom, and spring has surely 
come. Everybody seems happy and cheerful. Give 
my love to your family. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mr. and Mrs. McCullough 

Dear Friends : 

No words that I can command will express to you 
even in the slightest degree the emotions I experienced 
upon the receipt of your elegant token of regard. How- 
ever imperfect may be my note, it far better expresses 
my feelings than I could verbally make them known - , 
191 



Bnna fl>rice Billon 



for I am overwhelmed with your kindness, and my 
heart swells with gratitude. Accept our thanks, 
dear friends, and may the Good Father grant you 
health and strength, so that we may enjoy the plea- 
sure of your company at the approaching anniversary 
occasion. Very truly your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 
Leanand, Simday evening, 
November 3, 1S78. 

The summer and fall of 1878 the family spent at 
Leanand. At this place Mrs. Dillon's twenty-fifth 
wedding anniversary was celebrated, which is de- 
scribed in the following letter to her friend Mrs. Sils- 
bee, who was unable to attend. As stated in the 
letter. Leanand had shortly before that time been 
sold, and the occupancy of it by the family ended for- 
ever with the wedding celebration. 

A few days afterward the family went to reside for 
the winter at St. Louis, from which place the letters 
that follow were written. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

2326 Olive Street. St. Louis. 
December 16, 1878. 
My dear Mrs. Silsbee : 

^Ve came to St. Louis three weeks ago. Your letter 
reached me soon afterward, but I have not had time 
till now to answer. I cannot tell you how much I 
missed you at my wedding- anniversary celebration. 

192 



/Ifoemoir anfc /iDemorials 



I did not nor could not give you up until the very last 
day, for I felt quite sure you would come, and cannot 
yet understand why, if you found it necessary to go 
somewhere for your health and a change of air and 
scene, you did not come to me. That puzzles me a good 
deal, but I have no doubt you had some good reason. 
The affair seemed to be a great success. My son 
came, with his wife, two days before, and was with us 
ten days in all. I had my house decorated with fresh 
flowers from Chicago. Every place that would pos- 
sibly hold a flower was filled. The whole lower floor, 
dining-room and all, was turned into room for receiv- 
ing, and my room, the sewing-room, and Susie and 
Annie's bedroom were used for supper-rooms. The 
table was set in the large room with everything I 
could lay my hands on in the way of good things. 
Most of the cake I baked myself, but the bride's cake 
was made in Chicago, and some here in St. Louis. 
My fine jellies came from Chicago. The meats I 
cooked myself. And right here, for fear I forget it, 
I must say that my jellied chicken was delicious; 
every one who tasted it spoke of it. I had, besides, 
chicken salad, lobster salad, ham, turkey, raw and 
scalloped oysters. My supper was served by six col- 
ored men, who did their duty well. Mrs. Martin came to 
me, and worked like a Trojan; so did Miss Fejervary ; 
and Mr. and Mrs. Bryson, from Chicago, came and 
stayed five days. Sometimes I think if it had not been 
for my friends I could not have gotten through. I had 
(notwithstanding my " No presents received ") quite a 
193 



Buna price IDiilon 



number of gifts from those who would anyhow. I 
wore a white silk and brocade. The dress is handsome. 
They say I looked well in it. My daughter-in-law's 
dress was, of course, pure white silk and brocade. 
That, with bridal veil and diamond ornaments, made 
her look very charming. She is beautiful and very 
lovely ; every one admired her very much. Susie Dil- 
lon wore white silk and tarlatan, with pink garlands 
of flowers. Annie wore a plain school-girl's dress of 
pink brocade. 

The party was on Tuesday the 12th, and by Wednes- 
day the 20th I had moved all my furniture out and 
stored it, and Thursday left the house, never to re- 
turn to it as a home. You asked me who bought 
the place. Dr. Hazen is the purchaser, and will add 
four rooms to the house, with a view to establishing 
an eye and ear infirmary. 

Since coming here I have seen a great many people, 
some of whom are warmly interested in benevolent 
enterprises, and I have not forgotten to inquire 
about the little three-year-old with light hair and blue 
eyes for your sister to adopt. Since I came to St. 
Louis I have been more confined than usual by Annie's 
lameness. You have many times heard me speak of 
her trouble. She is much worse this winter, and has 
to submit every week to the terrible ordeal of having 
her foot burned with a red-hot iron. The suffering 
is terrible, but the doctor says it is the only hope for 
it. I had arranged to visit my sister this winter, 
and my mother in Washington,— not so much for my 
194 



/IDemoir anb /iDemorials 



pleasure as for Susie's,— but must give it up because 
of Annie, whom I cannot leave, unless in company of 
some one who would be a good companion to cheer 
her and drive with her occasionally. Write me 
when you can, for I am, 

Always yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The letters next given describe the incidents of Mrs. 
Dillon's life in St. Louis in the early part of 1879. 

To Mrs. McCullotjgh 

2326 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
Sunday evening, January 19, 1879. 
My dear Friend : 

I have planned many evenings to devote entirely to 
the writing of letters to my Davenport friends, but 
you know 

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 
Gang aft a-gley. 

Some I have written, but not without many interrup- 
tions. You were a long time answering my letter, 
and I was hungry to hear from you. If I were 
to tell of all I have seen, heard, and done during my 
short sojourn here, you would think it impossible for 
me to have had strength to endure it. 

Susie brought me news of you which you may be- 
lieve did me good. She says you worked with a will 
and conscientious devotion for the Library fair. How 
195 



Hnna iDrtce Billon 



I wish I could have been with you through all the ex- 
citements and perplexities of that time! 

How did you pass the holidays? They were full 
of pleasure for us. My husband was home, and, 
as is our custom, we exchanged some little tokens of 
affection. Christmas we spent with our friend Mrs. 
Gantt; we went as a family, John included. We met 
there Admiral Lee and son— a young man about to 
graduate this year at Princeton College— and a Mr. 
Washington, who claims to be a descendant of George 
Washington. The dinner was fine, served by colored 
waiters. New Year's, one of our invitations was to 
dine with Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Campbell, on the occa- 
sion of the husband's eighty-second birthday. You 
remember having heard me speak of them. They 
were born in Ireland, and lived there till grown. She 
is the woman with hair like your own. I told her 
about you, and promised, if we came here to live, she 
should see you. If they live to see the 4th of March 
they will celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. 

Last Sunday we were invited (Susie included) to 
accept seats in Dr. Pollak's pew at St. Xavier's 
Church to hear the music and then accompany them 
home to dinner. It was Epiphany, and the music 
was divine. The dinner was grand, and the visit de- 
lightful, notwithstanding the people icere Catholics ! 

I am sincere when I tell you that I like St. Louis 

people better and better each day; be they Catholic, 

Protestant, or Jew never enters my mind. I think 

sometimes the millennium is not far distant. A few 

196 



/IDemoir anb Memorials 



weeks ago fire destroyed the new Baptist church here. 
The congregation were thrown out of a place to wor- 
ship. Many of the churches were offered, among them 
the synagogue. The latter was accepted, as to accept 
a Christian church would compel them to hold service 
in the afternoon. As the Jews worship on Saturday, 
the Baptists have the exclusive use of the synagogue 
on Sunday. "We have in the nineteenth century the 
rare phenomenon of Christians worshiping in a Jew- 
ish temple. 

I cannot undertake to tell you of all the clubs and 
societies here for the improvement of mind and heart. 
Though the ladies are very punctilious in discharge 
of all social duties, enough time is given to books and 
self -culture to enable them to keep level with society 
anywhere. Young people are gay and have some- 
thing constantly on the tapis. Susie has had a grand 
time ever since her arrival. New Year's she received 
with some young ladies, and wore cream- colored silk, 
with scarlet poppies for a garniture. But last Wednes- 
day night she made her entree, or debut, in society. 
She wore a white tulle over white silk, trimmed with 
satin loops and bows, natural scarlet carnations in her 
hair and at her throat. It is needless to say she had 
a happy time. On Monday and Wednesday nights of 
this week there will be two more parties; but I fear 
she is not going to have strength to keep this up long. 

Annie's foot does not seem to get any better; she 
suffers the barbarous ordeal of cauterization every 
week or ten days. I sometimes fear she will never 
197 



Hnna price Billon 



walk again. She has met with much attention from 
our friends, who are always sending something to 
show their sympathy, or else coming to take her to 
drive. Pod wants to get back to Davenport. He 
said the other day : ' ' When are we going back to 
Davenport? I can't get along here much longer. I 
want to see Frank." I had last week another long 
letter from my daughter-in-law in Topeka, begging 
me to come and make them a visit. She says: " Dear 
mother, we are now fairly settled, and happy as pos- 
sible here on earth. I would like to have you see how 
fine our house looks, and taste the nice fruit you have 
put up for us." Susie will go during Lent and make 
them a visit, but I cannot leave Annie to go any- 
where. My husband is in Iowa City, lecturing at the 
State University, and will be there another fortnight. 
Now, be good and write me soon and tell me all the 
news. Give my love to Mrs. French and Mrs. Martin, 
and kiss the Reverend Mother for me. Remember me 
to Will and that blessed boy Frank. Susie and Annie 
send their love to you. With my arms around you, 
and a kiss on your plump cheek, I am, 
Always yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

2326 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
February 26, 1879. 
My dear Friend : 

I greatly fear that my long silence has led you to 
suspect that I have forgotten you, though I flatter 
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fiftemoir aub /jfoemotlals 



myself that I must do more than neglect to write be- 
fore you could be induced to believe so. When your 
last letter came I was so delighted with your free-and- 
easy style of telling me things which interested me so 
much that I fully intended to answer that night; 
but alas ! the evening was not mine. Friends came 
to visit, and, instead of the time being devoted to you, it 
was given to St. Louis people. And so my days go by ; 
very few are given to my own pursuits. When I 
came in November, I tried to arrange that I might 
have some time to myself, so I planned to return all 
first calls with great promptness, and, after that, 
to choose my own time for second visits; but the 
truth is I am constantly having new calls, and in 
consequence I am constantly on the go. Last week 
I accepted seven invitations, two a day for two 
days. 

On Friday last there were two elegant receptions at 
the same time (from four o'clock to seven), one given 
by Mrs. Foy (who is, by the way, a good, stanch 
Catholic), and the other by Mrs. Brant, who is a niece 
of old Colonel Thomas H. Benton. She resides in the 
house once occupied by him, and which was, during 
the Rebellion, the scene of General Fremont's osten- 
tatiousness, when all visitors passed up the steps from 
gate to door between two files of soldiers with drawn 
swords. To attend two such receptions in one after- 
noon, it is necessary to be promptly at four o'clock at 
the place you choose to go first. After passing an 
hour and a half, you again take your carriage and 
drive to the other place. Many of the ladies are 
199 



Hnna price Dillon 



in full evening dress. Music and delicious refresh- 
ments are the order of the day, and everybody goes 
home feeling that it is a good thing to meet people, 
even if it is "on the fly. ' ' 

Last Thursday Mrs. Chapman, whom I met in Mar- 
quette some years ago, gave me an elegant dinner. 
Twelve were the number invited, and it was in every 
respect one of the most recherche affairs I have ever 
attended. Mrs. Chapman was in Europe all the 
summer, and has but recently returned. She visited 
Eussia, and brought with her many souvenirs of that 
country. 

There is always something occurring here to 
take one away from home. You cannot count on 
any day being your own. Thank goodness, Lent com- 
mences to-day. Nearly everybody is at church, and 
because of this event, I hope to get time to answer 
the pile of letters before me. Susie has been in Chi- 
cago for nearly four weeks, and I fully expected her 
home to-day, but have just received a letter from 
her hostess, asking me to allow her to stay another 
week. She has had a royal time, I assure you. She 
has been out every day by invitation since going 
there. 

I see by the "Gazette" that poor Mrs. Ebenezer 
Cook has at last gone to her long home. A St. Louis 
paper says she left most of her fortune to chari- 
table objects. Did she give the Library Association 
anything more? 1 I received in due time a notice of 

i See Chapter I, p. 34. 
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/iDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



my promotion to honorary membership in the Library. 
To you I am grateful for a notice and appreciation of 
my work. I have but little time for reading, but 
have re-read Prescott's "Philip the Second," also 
"Vanity Fair," and am now reading "The Virgin- 
ians. ' ' These, with the addition of one or two French 
books, are all I have had time to read. 

Annie's foot is no better; if there is any change, it is 
worse. The probabilities are that I shall be compelled 
to take her to New York for treatment. Her general 
health is good, and spirits always buoyant. No one 
can tell of the anxiety I feel for that foot. How gladly 
would I give the use of both mine, if hers could be re- 
stored ! 

Eemember me to your husband and Will. Kiss 
Frank for me. Now, do write me soon; I want so 
much to hear what you are doing and if you still like 
me ; and with a heart full of love for your own dear 
self, I am, 

Ever your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

In the first days of April, 1879, Mrs. Dillon and her 
son John visited her son Hiram at Topeka. During 
their absence her husband wrote the note of April 7, 
given on the next page. Mr. Justice Miller had 
transmitted the letter containing the offer of a law 
professorship in Columbia University, and Mr. Ashbel 
Green had written urging its acceptance. The let- 
ters to them mentioned in the note relate to this 
201 



Hnna price Willow 



subject, and belong to this period of Mrs. Dillon's 
life.i 

The operation by Dr. Bauer so affectingly de- 
scribed in the next letter, though beneficial, did not 
result in permanently relieving the pain, which con- 
tinued for many years, as will appear in letters of Mrs. 
Dillon given in subsequent chapters of this volume. 

To Mrs. McCullottgh 

2326 Olive Street, St. Louis, 
Tuesday, April 15, 1879. 
My dear Friend : 

When I wrote last week, I supposed I should be in 
Hot Springs, Arkansas, by this time; but a kind 
Providence ordered otherwise, and I am home. I am 
happy in the thought that my poor afflicted daughter 
is at last cured, or so nearly cured that before many 
weeks it will be a fact accomplished. Last Friday 



i " 2326 Olive Street, St. Louis, Sunday, April 7, 1879. 
"My dear Wife: 

"To-day has been beautiful and bright. Susie went to cburcb this 
morning. Annie and I stayed at home. After dinner Susie and I took 
a long walk : West Twenty-ninth Street and Washington, and thence to 
Thirty-second Street and Pine and home. I have put in the day writing 
letters to Justice Miller and Ashbel Green, and went to the post-office in 
order to get them off to-day. The evening has been given to reading 
Lamartine and using the battery on Annie's foot. I inclose slip in 
reference to contest of Mrs. Ebenezer Cook's will. Judge Drury writes 
that in his judgment the contest will fail. Susie will write you a long 
letter. 

" We miss you more and more, and we look for you by Saturday sure. 
Write me what you think of the New York offer, and get Hymie's best 
judgment. 

"As ever, affectionately yours, 

"John F. Dillon." 

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/IDemoir anfc /IDemodals 



evening, while making calls to say good-by to some 
friends before leaving for Hot Springs, we heard 
of a German surgeon, Dr. Bauer, who has lived here 
for twelve years, and who has performed some won- 
derful operations and cures. Accident brought him 
to our notice, and we decided at least to show him 
Annie's foot, and tell him nothing, but let him tell, 
if he could, what was the matter. He took the 
lame and scarred foot in his hand, and, after ex- 
amination, said : ' ' The muscles on the outside of the 
leg have been contracting for years, and the only 
remedy is to cut the tendons and bring the foot around 
so that she can place it down squarely like the other. ' ' 
The thought of cutting after all the torture she has 
endured nearly drove me mad, and I turned from him 
horrified and would hear no more. 

After he left, Annie said : "He is the only man 
who has ever told me what was the matter; all the 
others have worked and tortured in the dark; I am 
going to let him cut till he cures." Sunday after- 
noon was set for the operation. With the family 
gathered sorrowfully around her, she gave us all one 
look and took the chloroform, then with a long, 
heartrending cry of " Mama Dillon, don't leave 
me ! ' ' she passed into the land of oblivion, leaving us 
in agony lest she should never return. As soon as 
she was unconscious, the doctors (for there were 
three) stretched out the poor contracted leg until 
the cord stood out on the side almost as large as my 
penholder; then, quick as thought, they severed it. 
203 



Hnna price Dillon 



After coming out of her sleep, she stood, with the 
help of the doctors, on the lame foot, as squarely as I 
stand on mine. 

When we saw her do what she has not been able to 
do for nearly four years, and saw her smile through 
the tears when she found that she was able to do it, 
it was a signal for a general cry, and we all indulged 
freely. The doctors standing with bowed heads in 
our midst, I could not but think of the time when 
the dear Saviour lived on earth and brought joy and 
happiness to the hearts of earth's afflicted. Annie 
walks about the room to-day without crutches, but 
is advised to go carefully for a few days. She suffers 
no pain at all, except that caused by the incision. 

We expect now to go to Davenport about the 1st of 
May, and unless something delays I shall see you at 
that time. I owe many letters, one to my friend Mrs. 
Wing, to whom I hope you will relate this account of 
Annie's operation. Love to Will and Frank and Mrs. 
Graham. Kind regards to your husband, and love to 
yourself. 

Affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The following letter from Mrs. Dillon relates to her 
visit, with her husband, to New York, where he went, 
early in May, 1879, to determine the question of whe- 
ther he would remove to that city, and announces 
the conclusion to do so. 1 

I See Chapter I, p. 19; Chapter IV, p. 177. 
204 



flfoemoir anfc /Ifcemorials 



To Mrs. Silsbee 

Davenport, Iowa, July 22, 1879. 
Dear Mrs. Silsbee : 

This is the first time in five weeks that I have been 
able to hold a pen. I have had one of my attacks of 
dyspepsia, and it has disabled me more than any illness 
has ever done. This is my reason for not having 
written you long ago. I hope you did not for a mo- 
ment think I had forgotten my old friend. 

I went with my husband this spring to New York, 
and did not reach here until the middle of May. Since 
then there has been much to occupy me if I had not 
been ill. My son and his wife came a day or two 
after I returned to make us a visit. She was taken 
sick and is still here confined to her bed. 

As soon as I am able I must begin to prepare to 
move. As you probably know, we go to New York to 
live, the middle of September. I am heartbroken at 
leaving my old friends, and verily believe that my 
grief is the cause of my illness; but I must accept 
what comes and try to be resigned. What time in 
August will you be here ? I am looking forward to 
your coming with great pleasure. I have much to 
say to you, but am tired now and can write no 
more. Will reserve my talk till I see you. With 
much love, I am, 

Yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

205 



CHAPTER V 

LIFE IN NEW YORK 

1879-82 

Settled in New York — Visit to Washington — First Christmas in New 
York — Longings for old home — Visit to the West — Summer of 1880 
at Narragansett Pier and the White Mountains — Death of Mr. Mc- 
Cullough — Twenty-seventh wedding anniversary — Exchange for 
Woman's Work — Second Christmas in New York — 1881, Son's seri- 
ous illness — Summer of 1881 at Narragansett Pier — Death of her 
sister Louisa — Journey to Davenport with her remains — Trip to 
Europe for daughter's health. 

LETTERS TO MRS. McCULLOUGH AND MRS. SILSBEE 



P^SHIS chapter embraces the record of Mrs. Dil- 
lon's life in New York, as it is found in her 
IHa extant letters, from November, 1879, till July, 



1882, when she sailed for Schwalbach, Germany, for 
the benefit of the health of her daughter Annie. Dur- 
ing this period she made two visits to her old home, 
one in May, 1880, en route to see her son at Topeka, 
Kansas, the other in 1882, on the sorrowful office of 
accompanying the remains of her sister Louisa (in the 
letters often called " Wisey ") to the family cemetery 
206 



MADISON AVENUE (NO. 671) HOME, NEW YORK, 
4881-95, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH. 



/IDemoir anb /Memorials 



at Oakdale, in Davenport. Her son John was critically- 
ill in February and March, 1881. The family spent 
the summer of 1880 at Narragansett Pier and in the 
White Mountains, the summer of 1881 at Narra- 
gansett, and the rest of the time, after April, 1881, at 
their residence, 671 Madison Avenue, which had 
recently been purchased. Here the family, when 
they were in New York, continued to reside for about 
fifteen years, when they made Knollcrest, at Far Hills, 
New Jersey, their permanent home. 1 Thither the 
family moved in July, 1895, but the library addition 
was not completed until Christmas, 1896, when it 
was first used for the holiday festivities. 

Mrs. Dillon had a special desire to see the "White 
Mountains, for the reason that her sister Mary, just 
before she was there taken with her fatal illness in 
1872, had written her how delighted she was with 
the region, and urged her to visit it; and while 
there Mrs. Dillon sadly retraced her sister's foot- 
steps of eight years before. To this sister Mrs. Dillon 
was warmly attached. Her rare graces of person 
and character were, on her death (which has been 
referred to on a previous page), commemorated by the 
erection in Chicago, in honor of her name and mem- 
ory, of the beautiful structure called " Mary Chapel." 

As narrated in Chapter I, the family, on their arrival 
in New York, in September, 1879, took up their resi- 
dence at 716 Madison Avenue, from which the first 
letters which follow were written. 

1 See Chapter I, p. 19. 
207 



Hnna fl>rice Billon 



To Mrs. McCullough 

New York, 716 Madison Avenue, 
November 23, 1879. 
My dear Friend : 

Your long-looked-for and welcome letter reached 
me last week. Your reasons for not writing me 
are good ones, and if I had known of your suffer- 
ings I should not have been unreasonable enough 
to watch so impatiently for the postman to bring 
me something from you. 

We are having most delightful weather here. We are 
nearly settled and begin to live. I have made some 
very pleasant acquaintances. I wish I had been at 
your luncheon. How I would have enjoyed it ! Just 
think of nestling down among those old friends— and 
to see Mrs. Barnard, too. Would n't I have been a 
happy woman! Who got my cup of coffee, my bis- 
cuit and piece of cake? When is your husband com- 
ing East? You must come with him and be my guest 
every minute of the time. As this letter will reach 
you on or about the 28th inst., let me remind you 
that it is your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and 
allow me to offer my congratulations, with a little 
silver token of my good wishes and kind regards for 
yourself and the husband you have lived with these 
many years of sunshine and shadow; and let us 
rejoice that there has been as much of one as the 
other, perhaps more sunshine than shadow, and that 
208 



/IDemoir anb /IDemorials 



is more than most couples can say. Love to the boys 
and yourself ; and I am, 

Ever yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

716 Madison Avenue, New York, 
January 25, 1880. 

My dear Friend : 

Your ' ' postal ' ' reminding me of my indebtedness 
to you came to me in Washington, where I was visit- 
ing my father and mother. Eight flattered did I feel 
that you cared enough for me to jog my memory. 
Many a one would have said, " I don't care whether 
she writes or not: I '11 never mention it." But you 
are, and always were, good, true, and trustful. 

Well, I have seen Washington in all its glory, all its 
frivolities, and all its emptiness. Of all the places 
that I have ever visited, there is here the least to sat- 
isfy. Of course I refer to the society. If one happens 
to be in either House when a good speech is made, or 
in the Supreme Court room, then she is repaid for 
having left home and children. But the everlasting 
exchanging of visits, daily attendance upon recep- 
tions, smirking and smiling, efforts to outdress and 
surpass in entertaining, are most unsatisfying. I 
was there two weeks, and I have seen all there is in it. 
Susie was much admired and had much attention. 
We had a friend with us who could chaperon her, so 
209' 



Hnna price Dillon 



I was relieved from going to many of the places where 
we were invited. She had a good time and enjoyed 
it thoroughly. Our drive to Georgetown and Arling- 
ton Heights in a great measure compensated me for 
the disappointments I found in the society. The view 
of the city from the old Lee mansion is finer than 
anything I have ever seen, except the view of Rome 
with her church from the Pincian Hill. 1 

We are getting quite well acquainted here in New 
York. We have had many invitations which we have 
accepted, and found the people to be the same as 
everywhere: some refined and cultured, others with 
nothing but money to recommend them. I have 
not yet learned to say I am content, for there is 
ever and anon a yearning for the old home and old 
friends. My husband is doing well and is busier 
than ever. 

We had a delightful Christmas. Hymie and his 
wife came from Kansas, my father and mother from 
Washington, and Price Collier from Cambridge. My 
sister Louisa has been with me all the winter, so that 
when we sat down to Christmas dinner we were just 
twelve. We had a large tree hung with handsome 
presents, and I tried to feel at home. But in the midst 
of all the gaiety there often came a sense of lone- 
someness. 

I was so sorry to hear of your accident, and 
only wish I were near enough to run in once in a 
while and chat with you. Would n't it shorten the 

i See Chapter III, p. 151. 
210 



fl&emotr an& /IDemorials 



weary hours of your suffering? I see my letter is 
growing long, and I have not yet said one word as to 
your coming East this spring. When is it to be ? Do 
not dare to tell me you cannot come ; I will not listen 
to it. Do write me when you can ; I am so eager to 
hear from you. 

Very truly and lovingly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

In July, 1879, Mrs. Dillon and family visited Lake 
Superior, partly for rest and recreation, and partly to 
see their friends Mr. and Mrs. Burt and family, who 
resided at Marquette. This visit is briefly alluded to 
in the following letter. The other references in this 
letter and those which follow are to incidents in Mrs. 
Dillon's life after the removal to New York. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

716 Madison Avenue, New York, 
February 2, 1880. 
My dear Friend : 

You little know of the pleasure your letter gave me. 
I have thought of you often in the past few months, 
and wondered where on the face of this broad earth 
you had found a home. I last heard from you in 
August, just after I returned to Davenport from a 
trip north to Marquette and Lake Superior. I hoped, 
until the very last day I was there, that you would 
make me the long-promised visit. 

m 



Hnna price Dillon 



Little did I think when I saw you last that fate 
would bring me to spend my last days in New York 
city. I say ' ' fate, ' ' but hardly think it fate, for when 
one leaves his affairs in the hands of the Good Father, 
it is only right to look upon all changes as being 
ordered by Him. 

Although I am not entirely discontented, still I can- 
not say that I am happy here. I have found no 
church as yet where I feel altogether at home. Every- 
thing is new and strange. Living is expensive, 
and, taking it all in all, keeping house is more of a 
task than I have found it before. We have a com- 
fortable house, well furnished, and every one is well 
satisfied to be here but myself. Susie is now a full- 
fledged young lady. Annie is taller than I, well 
developed and handsome, but still suffering with her 
foot. John is a great stout fellow; his health is 
better now than ever before, but he longs for the 
old home and his dog and pony. 

Christmas was as joyful an occasion as we could 
make it. There were no rooms during the holidays 
in my house "to let. " After my kith and kin all left 
for their homes I went to Washington to visit my 
mother, leaving my sister to take care of the house 
and children. I had never been in Washington before 
when Congress was in session, and so enjoyed very 
much the debates. The society is empty and frivolous, 
and if I were compelled to live there I should close 
my doors to it. 

Although I am making a great number of acquain- 
ts 



/Ifoemoir anfc> /IDemorials 



tances, I must in truth say I do not enjoy society here, 
though it is good, for no other kind collects about a 
college. But, you know, there are no friends like 
the old friends. The children wish to be remembered ; 
and, with much love, I am, 

Your sincere and affectionate friend, 
Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

716 Madison Avenue, New York, 
March 1, 1880. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter has just been handed me; I have only 
stopped long enough before answering to give it thor- 
ough perusal. I am truly sorry for you in your afflic- 
tion. How many times in the past seven weeks could 
I have comforted you if I had only been near you ! 

Now, you want to know how my health is. I am, on 
the whole, better than at Davenport, but whenever I 
spend a night worrying over Annie's condition, I find 
that I have afterward to spend two or three days in bed. 

We have a great number of acquaintances, and are 
often invited to social entertainments. A few days ago 
we attended a reception given by Mrs. George Ripley, 
whose husband was associated with Dana in editing the 
Encyclopaedia Americana; he is also literary editor of 
the " Tribune." Last Thursday I was one of the few 
invited to meet Kate Field at the house of a literary 
woman, Mrs. Barrow, who is known to almost every 
213 



Bnna fl>rice Billon 



child as ' ' Aunt Fanny, ' ' as that is her nom de 
plume. Among tne number present was one whom I 
took for the abbess of some Catholic institution, as 
she wore the garb peculiar to them, and had a mag- 
nificent rosary at her side. Her face was a benediction 
in itself, and reminded me strongly of the Reverend 
Mother (bless her!). I must tell you what was the 
occasion of this meeting, or you will wonder how she 
came there. There is a project on foot to establish a 
woman's cooperative dress association, with two hun- 
dred and fifty thousand dollars capital. I shall soon 
write again. 

Ever yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

New York, March 18, 1880. 
. . . The spring is heralded by the great number of 
new bonnets that are exhibited. As far as I have seen, 
they are small,— very small,— and are worn so far off 
the head that, in case they are accused of any injury 
to that member, they could easily prove an alibi. . . . 

A. P. D. 

The next two letters were written from Narragansett 
Pier, where the family sojourned during the summer 
of 1880. They refer, among other things, to the death 
of Mr. McCullough, husband of Mrs. Dillon's friend. 

Mrs. Dillon's general health this summer was good. 
214 



/IDemoir an£> /IDemorials 



She walked habitually between her hotel and the 
bathing-beach, and enjoyed the bathing, for she was 
an adventurous and powerful swimmer, going far- 
ther out into the surf than any of the women 
bathers, and competing on even terms with the most 
expert among the men. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

Mount Hope House, Narragansett Pier, R. I., 
July 16, 1880. 
My dear Friend : 

If I did not know you to be the truest of friends and 
one of the loveliest of women, I should not dare, after 
so long a silence, to write you. I thought when I was 
West in May that I must make you a visit, and it was 
very hard for me to give it up. We were in Daven- 
port two weeks, in Omaha two days, and in Topeka ten 
days. I did not know that my husband would be 
detained in Davenport so long, or I would have gone 
to your home for a short visit. What are you doing 
with yourself this summer ? I have no doubt you are 
contented, wherever you are, and are trying to do 
your duty, no matter how hard it may be. 

We have been at the above-mentioned place for 
nearly three weeks. The temperature is delightful, 
rarely rising above 85°. The bathing is fine. There 
are many of my St. Louis friends here, and I am 
much pleased with everything around me. Annie 
seems to be improving in health, and I have great 
hopes that she will be strong and well as she grows 

215 



Hnna iprtce Billon 



older. Susie is very slight, has lost much flesh, but 
does not complain any ; on the contrary, seems in per- 
fect health. The bathing here will do us all good, I 
think. My husband is not with us all the time, but 
comes every Friday and stays till Monday. He says 
the heat in New York last week was terrible. How 
thankful I ought to be that we have the means and 
opportunity to leave and be comfortable, while so 
many are compelled to stay and swelter! 

I have had a long letter from Mrs. Bills this morn- 
ing. She gives me some news of Davenport people, but 
very little. She says the Wadsworths have gone to 
Oconomowoc for the summer. Mrs. Henry Wadsworth 
went to Europe this spring, taking Willie Wadsworth 
with her; they say he is in poor health. Mrs. Hills 
told me, when there, she had written you of Mother 
Hills' s death. I arrived in Davenport the day she died, 
and was quite shocked to hear of it. A paper received 
a few days ago from Davenport gives an account of Mr. 
McCullough's death. Poor, dear Mrs. McCullough! I 
sincerely sympathize with her in her loneliness, but 
must rejoice that her agony is over. She suffered 
much in watching his sure but steady decline. We 
who know of her devotion can appreciate what must 
have been her anxiety. We shall be here until the 1st 
of September. Is there any hope of your coming East 
before next summer? Write me when you can, and 
count me always, 

Your affectionate friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

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/iDemoir anb /iDemorials 



To Mrs. McCullough 

Mount Hope House, Narragansett Pier, 
August 19, 1880. 
My dear Friend : 

Another package of Davenport ' ' Daily Democrats, ' ' 
just received, brings you fresh to my mind, and as I 
sit here by my window overlooking the beautiful bay, 
I think of a hundred things I could say to you that 
might not sound bad, but would look very flat if writ- 
ten. I need not ask how you are, for that I know. 
I see you sitting day after day, desolate enough, and 
would give much if I could get to you for but one 
short day; not that I could by any means dissipate 
your sorrow, but only lighten it somewhat by assur- 
ing you that although robbed of your nearest friend, 
there are still those who love you dearly, and would, 
if possible, turn your grief to joy. 

We shall go back to New York next week. We have 
had a delightful sojourn here, and it has been good 
for us all. Annie is much improved in health, and 
Susie says she was weighed to-day and has gained 
nearly ten pounds since coming. The climate is in- 
vigorating and the bathing is delightful. It is a much 
more popular resort than I supposed, and there is 
vastly more style than I anticipated . There are people 
here from all parts of the United States, and I have 
found some agreeable persons whom I have met in my 
travels with my husband. Many St.-Louisans prefer 
217 



Hnna price Billon 



this to any other place for the summer, and this house 
has a large number of them whom I knew when there ; 
so that everything conduces to make the time pass 
pleasantly for me. 

I have spent several days in Newport, which lies 
directly opposite, across the bay, only ten miles dis- 
tant; in fair weather it is in full sight. My husband 
thought he would take us there for a fortnight or so, 
but I strongly opposed it. I have some St. Louis 
friends there, and as they have not been forgetful to 
entertain us, I have as much of Newport as I care for. 

Susie, Annie, and John send love to dear Mrs. 
McCullough, and I want very much to be remem- 
bered to your children. Write me when you can. I 
shall write you as often as I have anything to say. 
With much sincere love, I am, 

Always yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

716 Madison Avenue, New York, 
November 15, 1880. 
My dear Friend : 

You may rest assured that I have had no control of 
my time since coming back from the sea- shore, or I 
should not have been so long a time answering my 
letters. My twenty- seventh wedding anniversary was 
last Wednesday , and my husband gave me two beautiful 
pictures, one after Meyer von Bremen and the other 
218 



/n>emoir anb /IDemoriate 



after Conti, also a dozen massive silver dessert-spoons. 
The day passed pleasantly, and in the evening I went 
down with him to his office, and blotted for him as he 
wrote his name as trustee six hundred times on as 
many bonds (railroad) of a thousand dollars each. 
There was nothing to mar the pleasure of the anni- 
versary, excepting that Hymie and his wife did not 
get here, being detained at home by their expecta- 
tions, which, if realized, will make me a grandmother. 
Imagine me knitting socks— which enterprise I shall 
enter upon as soon as I can get time to sit long enough 
to cast on the stitches. 

Last spring, when I came back from Davenport, I 
found a letter from the president of the Exchange for 
Woman's Work here, asking me to assist it in a move- 
ment to help competent women to make their own 
living. I answered her letter, saying that as my ac- 
quaintance was limited my influence would be slight, 
but that I would patronize the institution. This 
month I received a letter which informs me that I 
am a manager. 

I am sorry to hear you do not feel well. I am look- 
ing forward to next summer to have a visit with you. 
Then you will be well again, and will, in a measure at 
least, forget to mourn for him who has immeasurably 
improved his estate. You would not bring him back, 
would you ? Write me, my dear friend, one more 
cheery letter, and believe me, 

Yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 
219 



Hnna fl>rice Dillon 



To Mrs. McCullough 

716 Madison Avenue, New York, 
Monday, December 27, 1880. 
My dear Friend : 

Your beautiful gift came to me just at the most de- 
sirable time— Christmas Eve. I was much surprised, 
but much more delighted. The book is a beauty. I 
had seen a notice of it, but never the book. My hus- 
band and I took solid comfort examining and reading 
from it on Christmas Day. We all had a Merry Christ- 
mas. A fine tree, which bore abundant and costly 
fruit, delighted us all. Among my husband's hand- 
some presents to me were a richly carved ebony cabi- 
net and «a superb diamond pin. The cabinet I had 
asked for and expected, but that I should have the 
diamonds never entered my mind. The children all 
received (or seemed to) the things that they most de- 
sired, and everybody was merry, with nothing to mar 
the pleasure of the day, excepting that Hymie and his 
wife could not be here. But are there in this world 
many days unmarred by something ? If there were, 
this would be heaven, not earth. 

Now that the New Year is about to enter, the days 
will glide very swiftly and the springtime will not 
tarry. Then I hope to see you and have you for a 
good visit. Judge Dillon said last night that he ex- 
pected to take all his family to Colorado in the spring. 
If he should do so, you can come home with us. He 
220 



flDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



reads a paper to-morrow night before the Historical 
Society of Long Island in Brooklyn, after which a 
prominent gentleman there will give him a reception. 
I am going with him, and will take the girls. 

Write me whenever you can; I long to see you. 
Wishing you and your boys a Happy New Year, I am, 
Affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The next letter gives a brief account of the serious 
illness of her son John and of his recovery. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

716 Madison Avenue, New York, 
March 27, 1881. 
My dear Friend : 

This is the first moment I have had for many weeks 
in which to write or read. Johnnie is sitting up a 
little to-day, dressed, and seems more like himself 
than at any time for seven weeks. He was taken ill 
the 6th of February, and no one ever approached so 
near "that undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
no traveler returns," and yet came back to friends. 
I suppose Anna Graham has told you all about our 
anxious days and nights, and the heart anguish we 
endured. It seems to me now that we must have 
had more than the grace which is given us day by day 
to live by, or we never could have survived the ter- 
rible trial. 

221 



Hnna price Dillon 



At one time, Johnnie took the little ring from his 
finger, looked at it, then replaced it, crossed his 
hands on his breast, and whispered, " Good-by, 
mama, good-by." Since his recovery he said to 
me he thought he was dying, but did not want to 
tell me so, for he knew the girls and papa would make 
such a noise crying. He added, " I knew you never 
left my bed, and I would just slip away without any 
excitement. ' ' Is not that much more like a man than 
a boy? Thinking over all that has come to me in the 
last two months, I feel sure my friends were praying 
for both Johnnie and me. How I longed for my 
friends in my trouble you do not know ; not but that 
there were plenty who came to offer their services and 
sympathy, but they were not the old, tried friends of 
other days and other scenes. 

Johnnie's only trouble now seems to be in short- 
ness of breath, occasioned. I suppose, by the pain 
in his heart, which has not yet left him. The doctors 
say it will take all the spring and summer for him 
to get well. On that account I do not expect to 
go West this year, but shall all the more anxiously 
look for you to come to me. We have bought 
for him a handsome little vehicle for driving in the 
park, and a beauty of a horse about thirteen and a 
half hands high. These the girls are enjoying until 
he can use them himself. Poor fellow! he can only 
see them from the window, and is very impatient to 
get out. He and Frank will have nice times when 
you get here. My love to your boys. I must close 
222 



/IDemotr anfc /Memorials 



my letter, for John wants me to read to him. The 
nurse left yesterday, and I am in greater demand 
than ever, if possible. With much love, I am, 
Ever yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

No letters written in 1881 after the one last given 
have been found. The summer of 1881 was spent at 
Narragansett Pier. Until July 5, 1882, when the family 
sailed for Europe, they were at 671 Madison Avenue, 
at which place Mrs. Dillon's sister Louisa (" Wisey ") 
died of typhoid fever, January 2, 1882. Mrs. Dillon's 
allusions to the event are very pathetic and show how 
deeply it touched her. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
March 5, 1882. 
My dear Friend : 

Your kind letter deserved an early reply, but not 
until to-day have I had a moment that I could devote 
to you. So much sickness in the house since the 12th 
of December has entirely prevented my doing many 
things that were left over at the time of getting settled 
in our new home, until I should get back from my 
summer trip. Susie was shut up in the house for six 
weeks, four of which she was in bed. Wisey's death 
made a great impression on her. The first night 
after her death, she and Susie Price insisted upon sit- 

223 



Hnna price Billon 



ting up with the remains. I think, and thought then, 
it was a most indiscreet thing to do. Annie is poorly 
—has lost much flesh. 

I was much astonished to hear of Mrs. Altman's 
death, and have been watching for my Davenport 
papers to get the particulars. How strongly it is im- 
pressed on my mind every day that ' ' we all do fade 
as a leaf." There seems nothing except one's family 
worth living for, and how gladly I would follow Wisey 
were there not so many depending upon and looking 
to me for happiness and love. But, my dear friend, I 
feel that one more blow, were it but a slight one, would 
be more than I could bear. 

It never seemed such a little way to the other side 
and rest as since Wisey left me. You cannot know 
what sorrow it was to pick up her things and put them 
forever out of sight. The last work she did (and that 
was when she was already miserable) was to drag 
herself to a florist and buy a basket of flowers to be 
sent to the woman who leased her house. She came 
home, removed her clothes, and threw them on a 
lounge in her room, saying, ' ' I will put them away 
to-morrow. ' ' The morrow found her very ill indeed, 
and she was brought to another room to be taken care 
of, and the room she left was locked up. Weeks after 
I had laid her peacefully to rest at Oakdale, it was 
necessary to get some things out of a trunk for her 
poor son. Unlocking the door, I entered the room, 
and stood in the midst of many of her personal belong- 
ings: there on her dressing-table was her watch, her 
224 



/Hbemoir anfc ZlDemorials 



collar with the pin in it, her ear-rings, where she had 
laid them when so sick on that first night ; on a chair 
was her dress, with cuffs in the sleeves, just as she had 
pinned them, her boots, bonnet, and umbrella, just as 
she dropped them when God called to her that her work 
on earth was done. None but the Good Father can 
know of my agony as I knelt beside her bed, laid my 
head on her pillow, and prayed for strength to bear 
my sorrow and go on with my work till I too shall 
be called. But this letter will be no comfort to you, 
and I must close. Love to all of yours. Write me 
when you can. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

In the following letters Mrs. Dillon announces her 
intended visit to Schwalbach and the reasons for mak- 
ing it. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

New York, June 16, 1882. 
My dear Friend : 

It is nearly a month since I left you, and not one 
moment have I had until to-day in which to notify 
you of my safe arrival home from Davenport. After 
arriving, mother stopped with me for a fortnight. Then 
Annie went to bed, and was there for more than a 
week, and is more miserable than ever. We have de- 
cided to take her to Europe, and will sail the 5th of 
July on the Bothnia. I do not like the idea of making 

225 



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such a trip without my husband, yet I shall try it for 
the sake of seeing her well. How long I shall stay I 
cannot tell— maybe all the winter. . . . 

A. P. D. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

New York, 671 Madison Avenue, 
June 25, 1882. 
My dear Mrs. Silsbee : 

I am not quite clear in my mind who wrote the last 
letter, but this I do know— that I feel like telling you 
that I am about to sail for Europe again. I am not 
going for pleasure this time, but to try the air and 
baths of Germany for my invalid daughter, Annie. 
She, as you know, has never been very well since we 
came back— for the past two years has been gradually 
growing worse. She has wasted to a shadow, and is so 
feeble that she cannot at times walk across her room. 
She has been treated without success by the best 
physicians in the country. I have heard, from per- 
sons who have been similarly affected, of the springs 
at Schwalbach, Germany, that often work entire cures. 
I am starting alone with my family— that is, without 
my husband, whose business will not permit him to 
leave, this summer at least. If Annie does not mend 
rapidly we will stay over the winter to give her the 
benefit of another summer. Judge Dillon will then 
join us and bring us home in the autumn. You can- 
not imagine how lonely I feel, starting to a strange 
country with a sick child and without my husband. 
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/IDemolr anfc /IDemorials 



Nothing but the fact that I must do it, and the hope 
that she may find health, supports me and enables 
me to make the effort. 

I went with my father and mother this spring to 
take my sister's remains to Davenport. I was there 
only four days, but saw many of my dear old friends, 
who were very kind and sympathetic and did all in 
their power to help us bear our sorrow. I have a 
great affection for the old place, and hope to end my 
days there. There have been many changes. Leafland 
looks deserted. 

We shall sail the 5th of July on the Bothnia (the ship 
that brought me home before). Don't forget to pray 
earnestly for Annie's recovery and our safe return. 
I am going out without any guide but the all-powerful 
hand of Him who always guides aright and proves 
better than all our fears. I shall be in Schwalbach 
until September. If you can drop me a line before I 
go, I shall be so glad. I am, 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 




227 



CHAPTER VI 

LIFE IN EUROPE 

1882-83 

Sails for Europe, 1882 —Visits Schwalbach and Wiesbaden for daughter's 
health— Waters and baths — Dr. Langenbeck — Paris, Drs. Warren 
and Charcot — Nice, Dr. Camerer and Professor Volkmann — Christ- 
mas and New Year's in Nice — Friends and acquaintances. 

LETTERS TO JOHN F. DILLON, MRS. SILSBEE, AND MRS. 
MCCULLOUGH 



#^TO HE illness from which the daughter Annie had 

I HH I so * ong ^ een a su ^ erer stn * continuing, the 
j^^a family physician in New York recommended 



family phyi- 

a course of treatment at the German baths. Accord- 
ingly Mrs. Dillon, accompanied by her two daughters, 
Susie and Annie, and her son John, sailed July 5, 
1882, on the Bothnia, arrived at Liverpool July 15, 
and going thence via London, Cologne, and the Ehine, 
reached Schwalbach July 20, where they remained 
for six or seven weeks, both mother and daughter tak- 
ing the waters and baths under medical direction. 
Thence they proceeded to Wiesbaden to consult the 
228 



PORTRAIT OF HER DAUGHTER SUSIE, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH 
BY MENDELSSOHN, 1892. 



flDemoir anfc ZlDemorlals 



eminent Dr. Langenbeck, staying there until Septem- 
ber 29, when they journeyed to Paris, where they 
remained from October 1 till December 4. Under 
the advice of Drs. Charcot and Warren, they went to 
Nice, sojourning at that place until February, 1883, 
and then to southern Italy, and afterward to Carls- 
bad. While at Nice the photograph of Mrs. Dillon 
which is reproduced as the frontispiece to this 
volume was taken. 1 

The question has arisen whether letters of such a 
personal and domestic nature as many of those relat- 
ing to Mrs. Dillon's second visit to Europe should be 
included in this volume. But inasmuch as they are an 
important part of her life, it seems that they ought, 
for that reason, if for no other, to appear among the 
incomplete memorials she has left under her hand con- 
cerning it. Moreover, no part of her life more clearly 
exhibits one of the leading and most lovely traits of 
her character— the unfathomed depths of her maternal 
love and devotion. No doubt her own ill health part 
of the time, and that of her daughter, somewhat 
clouded her life, but the natural buoyancy and resili- 
ence of her spirits soon overcame any temporary 
despondency, and enabled her to enjoy the new scenes, 
objects, places of interest, and experiences which Italy 
and Germany and their great art collections offered 
to her. This she often expressed, and the letters in 
this chapter and the next will be found full of inter- 
est. She wrote letters during this period, with per- 

1 See Chapter I, p. 40, and note. 

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Hnna price Dillon 



haps more than her usual care, to Mrs. Gantt, Mrs. 
Wing, and other friends, which are dispersed or lost. 
Those to her son Hiram (the only child who was not 
with her) were accidentally destroyed by fire. After 
Mrs. Wing's death, her daughter Alice asked Mrs. 
Dillon what should be done with the letters to her 
mother, and, much to Alice's regret, she was directed 
to destroy them as being no longer of interest to 
any one. 

The letters in this chapter cover the period of Mrs. 
Dillon's stay, in 1882, at Schwalbach, Wiesbaden, Paris, 
and Nice, and are in general self-explanatory. 

To John F. Dillon 

On board Bothnia, July 13, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie: 

Susie is down in the dining-saloon writing, and I am 
cuddled up in a chair on deck, trying to say something 
to those at home who may be anxious for our safe ar- 
rival. We are now about twenty hours from Queens- 
town, and shall arrive there to-morrow morning 
(D. V.). We have had a most monotonous and un- 
eventful voyage ; it has rained a little daily. But to- 
day is gorgeous. The sea, out as far as it touches the 
horizon, is as blue as the heavens above it, and the 
whitecaps which fleck its surface remind one of a 
scattered flock of sheep in the distance. The other 
night we had what the sailors call a "stiff blow." It 
carried away some sails and shredded others. We did 
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flfcemoir anfc> /iDemorials 



not know, being asleep, how much of a storm it was, 
or I presume we should have been anxious to ascer- 
tain if " the sailors were still swearing." You know 
that story, don't you? I was terribly seasick when I 
first came on board, and if I could have gotten home 
again, would have let Annie take her chances in 
America for health. However, we are almost there, 
and I shall be very glad a year hence that I had the 
courage to take her abroad. 

I have written Hymie and my mother each a note 
to let them know how and where we are. I have sug- 
gested to Hymie, if I stay abroad a year (and I think 
now that I shall, for my stomach will hardly be set- 
tled before that time), that he should come over with 
you in the spring, spend the summer, and then we can 
all go home together. If you were to see me now, 
you would protest that you had never known me, for 
I 'm frightfully ugly and sunburnt. I am anxious to 
hear from home and to learn how you all are. 
Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Schwalbach, Hotel Allee-Saal, 
July 23, 1882. 
My dear Friend : 

If you are thinking of me at all, you must wonder 
as to my whereabouts. I sailed out of New York har- 
bor on the morning of July 5— one of the rainiest and 

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most miserable days that ever fell to the lot of any- 
poor creature on which to part from her husband and 
her comfortable home. We had a disagreeable voy- 
age in that it rained nearly all the ten days we were 
out. I was, as I thought, sick unto death, but did 
recover, however, and was, the latter part of the time, 
able to drag myself on deck. When we cast anchor 
at Queenstown I was reeling like a drunkard, but 
would crawl to the side of the vessel to cast a longing 
look at Ireland's green hills and rugged rocks. After 
landing, or rather turning over to a small tugboat, 
some of our passengers, we struck out again for the 
broad ocean and Liverpool. In a few hours we en- 
tered the Irish Sea, and were again well shaken up, 
for it was terribly rough, and, as the deck-steward 
(who, by the way, was devoted to me) said, was "the 
very divil of a place for seasickness." That night 
we stood off from the Welsh coast. It was dark and 
rainy, and our captain, who is one of the best, stopped 
the engines and lay to in order to get his bearings. 
I learned afterward that many of the men did not 
retire at all, as it was on that coast and about that 
place that the Britannic came to grief and had to be 
tugged into port, a few weeks before. Luckily I 
did not know of this on that night, or I should not 
have been so indifferent. Saturday morning, July 15, 
at nine o'clock, the good ship Bothnia, with flags fly- 
ing and all officers in gala-dress, sailed up the Mersey 
and deposited passengers and cargo on a steam-tug, in 
a most drenching rain. 

232 



/iDemoir anb /Ifoemoriate 



Then came the hurry and- bustle of getting trunks 
through the custom-house. This was but a short pro- 
cess with me, for I had made the acquaintance of an 
Irish gentleman who lives in New Orleans, and who was 
bound to Belfast to make his annual visit to his mo- 
ther. He took the matter in hand, and told the officers 
that there was a woman with an invalid daughter 
who was anxious to get to the hotel. They bade him 
bring me in by a private way, swore me that I had in 
my trunks no gold or silver plate, no tobacco, cigars, 
or whiskey, and then, with opening one trunk (to sat- 
isfy the law), put me through at once, thanks to the 
Irish gentleman. Excepting for his assistance, I 
should have done as others did, and waited there for 
hours. I went immediately to the Northwestern, 
bought my tickets to London, and ordered luncheon. 
While seated at table, the Irish gentleman, Mr. Char- 
nock by name, again made his appearance, and said 
he would see us to the train. We found our car, 
when three fellow-passengers got in also. There were 
many farewells and hopes of meeting again. As Mr. 
Charnock left the car I called to him, "You have 
left a basket." He answered, "That is for you to 
study on your way to London." Imagine our sur- 
prise, upon opening it, to find it filled with large 
peaches, green gages, hothouse grapes, apricots, and 
strawberries, some of the latter being nearly three 
inches in circumference. These were deposited in the 
midst of roses, jasmine-flowers, and a wealth of forget- 
me-nots. Verily he was a true Irishman. 
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Buna lprice Billon 



We reached London at seven o'clock, and went to 
the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly, where we stopped two 
days, then left for Brussels, via Dover and Calais, and 
arrived at Brussels that night. We decided to go on 
to Cologne. I telegraphed the proprietor of the Hotel 
du Nord that I should arrive at midnight. We stopped 
there one day to rest. I took my family to see the 
cathedral and churches, all of which was new to 
Annie— John and Susie and myself having been there 
before. Thursday, at 6 a.m., we took the boat up 
the Ehine to Eltville, where we arrived at 7 P. M. We 
found the steamboat agent, who secured us a carriage, 
and started on a drive of ten miles up the mountains 
to Schwalbach, where we arrived July 20, at ten 
o'clock, tired and hungry. 

This is a beautiful town, dating back to 1628. The 
trees and the drives all indicate that it was not built 
in a day. There are about five thousand visitors here 
annually. The program for each day is the same: 
Drive at seven o'clock, drink the waters, take a walk 
before breakfast, have a bath in the mineral waters, 
and then it is time for another drink; then follows 
table d'hote, with music all the time in the public 
place. I am hoping that Annie may receive every 
benefit from the cure. Write me a long letter, for I 
get homesick. Don't forget your old friend in her 
exile. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 
The result of the cure is given in the next letter. 
234 



flDemoir anb /iDemorials 



To Mrs. Silsbee 

Schwalbach, August 27, 1882. 
My dear Friend : 

Your kind letter, which came several days ago, gave 
me great pleasure. It was the first received from 
America, excepting my husband's. We arrived the 
20th of July, and have been here nearly six weeks. 
The place is only a village with a population of five 
hundred people, which increases to many thousands 
in the summer months. Its great attraction is the 
waters, which are said to cure many of the ills and 
ails that poor human flesh is heir to. 

Annie has taken the water-baths, in conjunction 
with mud-baths, the two being regarded by many as 
a sure cure for neuralgia. Thus far, I regret to 
say, she has improved little, if any, though people 
who have been coming here for years say that one 
does not feel the benefit at once, but only after 
some weeks. We shall leave here next Saturday 
(September 2) and go to Wiesbaden to consult a 
famous German doctor as to whether Annie's spine is 
affected, as is often the case where there is such a 
constant neuralgia. What he will order us to do de- 
pends, of course, on what he finds to be the matter. 
I had thought, after leaving here, to go to Berlin, 
Dresden, and Vienna, but if Annie is to be treated I 
must settle down in some place where that can be done 
with the most and speediest benefit to her. My heart 
235 



Hnna price Billon 



is heavy all the time, and I do not find myself very 
submissive when I see her suffer. Could be much 
more so were I suffering myself. May the Good 
Father help me to bear my burden patiently. 

I had yesterday a letter from Mrs. McOullough, and 
she informs me that she is a grandmother! Willie, who 
was married last October, has a fine son. 

I think, by the tenor of your letter, that you have 
not heard of Duncan Putnam's death. He died last 
December, and Mrs. Kirby, his aunt, has just modeled 
a bust of him in clay and placed it in the Academy 
of Science. 

Susie Dillon has gained six pounds since coming here. 
She is looking well, and wishes to be remembered, as 
do also Annie and John. Eemember me to Mr. Sils- 
bee, and don't forget to pray for your friend, who 
sits in sorrow in a strange land. 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To John F. Dillon 

Wiesbaden, September 16, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I have just been to the bank, and there found your 
letter of the 30th of August. I received your letter 
from Keokuk after it had been written over two 
weeks, also the letter from Topeka; since then they 
have been coming regularly and in due time. 
236 



/iDemoit anb /IDemotials 



I wrote you a long letter two weeks ago to-day, 
giving an account of an interview with the famous 
Dr. Langenbeck (the Emperor's physician). He is 
treating Annie— sees her every alternate day; has pre- 
scribed cold-water bandages for the spine, to relieve it 
of inflammation. Every one who has heard of his 
giving her case his personal attention is astonished, 
for it is a long time since he has done anything but 
consult with other physicians. He is a man of nearly 
seventy years, I imagine, and has recently been made 
' ' his Excellency ' ' by the Emperor. He insists that 
Annie shall go out every day either for a walk or a 
drive, though he prefers that she should walk. 

I will now give you a short account of how our days 
are spent. I get up at seven o'clock, take a glass of 
water that has been prescribed for my gout, then 
dress, take another glass, and then walk for half an 
hour. When I come back at eight or thereabout, I 
find the children awake ; then Annie has her first 
cold bandage, and we all have coffee and rolls. 
At nine the German teacher comes for an hour, and 
John, Susie, and I have German, while Annie (who is 
still in bed) has a mutton-chop. At eleven she has a 
large cup of milk (which she takes now without much 
grumbling). At one o'clock we have our dinner; then 
we all get ready for a walk, and remain out as 
long as Annie can stay. In the late afternoon Annie 
goes to bed and has the cold bandages and her cup of 
milk. Then, with a little letter- writing and reading, 
the day is gone. There is no use to deny it, it is pretty 
237 



Hnna price Billon 



dull, and if I were abroad for pleasure I should seek 
some other place; but as it is for Annie's benefit, I 
shall stay until the weather is cold, or well on into 
October. Then, Dr. Langenbeck says, he will give me 
a letter of introduction to a doctor who can take care 
of Annie. 

About getting him to give me, as you request, a 
statement in writing as to her case, I do not know 
whether it can be done, but I will try. So far I see no 
results, for she suffers more than ever, though every 
one says I expect results too soon ; they never manifest 
themselves until after three or four months. The 
girls do not want to go home this fall, and I have 
about made up my mind to stay, and leave here in 
October for Paris, stopping at Strasburg to visit the 
cathedral, and then at Stuttgart for a day or two to 
see May Darling, who is to be there by that time. 
Annie had a letter from May yesterday saying that 
she will be there, and wants to see her; it seems to 
have given her new life. 

I am sorry that your dinner-party was a failure, 
but you must understand that I cannot run your house 
from here. I am looking for another letter from you 
soon, and I hope you will tell me what you are going 
to do this winter. The children send you much love, 
and I am ever, 

Yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Dillon's view of death is briefly expressed in 
the next letter. 

238 



/IDemoir ant) /ifcemorials 



To John F. Dillon 

Wiesbaden, Wednesday, September 20, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I have just received your letter of Sunday, Septem- 
ber 3. Before this time you have mine of the 2d, 
written immediately after Dr. Langenbeck first saw 
Annie. I will now commence numbering my letters. 
This is No. 1, though really I have written many more. 
Langenbeck has been very faithful, and has done 
Annie much good. . . . 

I have all the papers you have sent me— the New 
York Sunday papers of. September 3, also the Daven- 
port papers giving accounts of Mrs. True's death 
and H. M. Martin's. It does n't make me blue a bit. 
Death is only the entrance into life, and rarely comes 
until we feel glad to go to the rest it surely brings. . . . 
Affectionately, etc., 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Hotel Quatre-Saisons, 
Wiesbaden, September 27, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie: 

I wrote and mailed you No. 2 four days ago. I think 
in that letter I told you I should stay here until the 
middle of October, but since then the weather has 
changed. It is growing colder, and Annie is suffering 
constantly. The doctor has been in, and says it may 
239 



Hnna price Dillon 



be that if I go farther south she will be better, so I 
shall pack to-morrow and leave Friday, the 29th, for 
Paris. If it suits Annie, I will stay a month or six 
weeks; if not, the doctor says to keep going south- 
ward. I have just had a note from Mrs. Kemp. 
They are in Paris, at the Continental. The surprise 
she refers to was a basket of flowers I requested the 
proprietor of the Allee-Saal to send her, in my name, 
when she should leave Schwalbach. She is undoubt- 
edly a very fine woman, and has made herself very 
agreeable to me, and she touches my heart as no one 
else has since Mrs. Gantt. Did I ever tell you where 
I am in Wiesbaden? I know I told you to send my 
letters to B. Berle, but did I say that I was at the 
Quatre-Saisons? If you remember, it overlooks the 
square with the fountains and the two colonnades. 
I send you by this mail a book called ' ' Bubbles from 
the Brunnen Nassau." It is quite interesting, and 
will give you a better idea of Schwalbach than any- 
thing I can say. The Kemps will sail on the 12th of 
October, and will be home surely by the last. I wish 
you would call and thank Mrs. Kemp for kindness 
to Annie and all of us, but to Annie in particular. The 
children all send love. I will write next time from 
Paris. A. P. D. 

The following letters from Paris give an account of 
Mrs. Dillon's life in that city from October to Decem- 
ber, 1882, when she started, with her two daughters 
and son, for Nice. 

240 



flftemoir anb /Ifcemorials 



To John F. Dillon 

Paris, October 1, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you on the 27th ult. that the doctor had ad- 
vised me to leave Wiesbaden because of the rain and 
cold. Friday morning we started for Strasburg in a 
violent rain-storm. We went first to Mayence, and 
waited there in the depot nearly an hour for the other 
train, which brought us through to Strasburg. While 
we were at Mayence, Susie and I started on foot, and 
in the rain, to see the cathedral. After getting 
thoroughly wet, we found it, and it was locked, and 
so we paddled back, just in time to get the train. 

We arrived at Strasburg at four o'clock, but it was 
raining so hard we could only get to bed and wait for 
another day. Next morning was comparatively clear, 
so we visited the cathedral, and waited to hear the 
clock strike the hour of twelve. At five o'clock we 
took the night train for Paris, and arrived here at six 
this morning. We had a terrible journey, being 
compelled to sit up all night. We were told before 
starting that we could get a Schlafwagen at a place 
two hours this side of Strasburg, but were disap- 
pointed, and there was no alternative. To-day we are 
fagged out, and the children have all gone to bed. . . . 

Dr. Langenbeck charged me three hundred marks, 
and gave me a letter of introduction to a physician 
here. He took your address and promised to send 

241 



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you a diagnosis of Annie's case. I am so very tired, 
and trembling from fatigue, —and no rest last night,— 
that I must give up writing more. Will write you 
soon again. Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, October 6, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I have just received yours of the 17th of September, 
written after your return from Southampton. . . . 
Annie's appetite is a little better now than at Wies- 
baden, and she seems a trifle more like herself, though 
the pain in her leg never leaves her. She is pleased 
to be here, and drives twice a day— she and Susie, and 
sometimes John, when he is not studying: for I 
have secured for him a Latin teacher and a teacher 
in mathematics. A woman comes to the rooms to 
give French, so I can get the benefit of that. He 
seems pleased with his teachers. When I left Wies- 
baden Dr. Langenbeck gave me the address of an 
eminent doctor here,— Dr. Charcot, who treats ner- 
vous troubles like Annie's,— and recommended me to 
consult him, but Annie positively refuses to see him. 
Dr. Langenbeck said it was advisable to keep her in a 
warm climate, and as soon as it grew cold in Paris, 
to make my way southward. Not until he said that 
did I decide to stay over the winter. 

Mrs. Hugh T. Eeid writes me that General Belknap 

2±2 



/IDemoIr anfc /iDemorials 



is here, and will stay until November. She will stay 
a year. I would like to fall in with them, for I feel 
lonesome. It is getting dark, and I am tired being 
propped up. I will close, and write again when I get 
another letter. A. P. D. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Paris, October 15, 1882. 
My dear Friend : 

Your last letter was awaiting me when I reached 
here the first day of October. I wrote you just before 
I left Schwalbach to go to Wiesbaden to consult Dr. 
Langenbeck about Annie. He immediately took the 
case, and encouraged me to think he could cure her. 
The weather in Wiesbaden was wretched; it rained 
twelve days consecutively, and the doctor was frank 
enough to tell me that the climate was doing her much 
harm. In twenty-four hours afterward I was en 
route to Paris. If I had gone home I should have 
been compelled to go in December to Florida or Cuba, 
and then in May come back here, which undertaking 
I felt would be too much for me. I am not as well 
as I used to be, and find that it takes but little to 
fatigue me. My husband— poor fellow!— tries to be 
brave, looks the inevitable firmly in the face, and says, 
" Make the best of it, and, if possible, I will come over 
next spring. " If I could only see the slightest change 
in Annie for the better, my heart would quail at no 
task, nor tremble at any undertaking. I often won- 
243 



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der if I am the same woman who used to laugh at 
what other people thought impossible, and who 
scorned every obstacle in the way to the accomplish- 
ment of any desired end. 

I presume Leafland will be for sale, and I shall be 
anxious to know who gets it. One of my children 
was born there, and I shall always be interested in it. 
Hymie writes that his little boy is so bad they don't 
know what to do with him. I quietly fold my arms 
and answer : " ' Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall 
he also reap. ' You are no more perplexed than I used 
to be." Hymie's father has just bought him a fine 
house in Topeka, and they are writing me to know 
how to furnish it. There are several things over here 
to make a house look well, but the custom-house 
stands in the way, like Christian's lions in " The Pil- 
grim's Progress," and we dare not touch them. Be- 
lieve me, Ever yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, October 18, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Yesterday Susie, Annie, and John each had a letter 
from you. . . . 

I am glad you met Mr. Hay. He seems a jolly good 

fellow, and is the father of eight children. His wife is a 

lovely woman, but a confirmed invalid. She has lost 

her voice entirely, and can speak only in a low whis- 

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per. She is a niece of Sydney Waterloo, who was 
once Lord Mayor of London. This I have learned from 
others, and not from them. I met, while at Schwal- 
bach, Sir James Hannen, Judge of the Divorce Court in 
London. He is a charming man about sixty-five, and 
quite feeble; is a widower with two lovely daughters. 
He expects to visit America next summer. He knew 
Sargeant Sleigh very well, but did not think he ever 
returned from Australia. He told me he knew of you, 
and should be very glad to see you. I gave him my 
card, and he said if you were in New York he would 
find you. 1 

This morning I received your letter of Sunday 
evening, September 24. You have no doubt by this 
time received the girls' photos. I came to this hotel 
(l'Amiraute) last Sunday week. I left it for good 
reasons, and came to 52 bis Boulevard Haussmann. If 
Annie shows any sign of improvement Susie and I are 
going to call upon the American minister. Annie, 
poor child ! is in bed again. She would not allow me 
to present my letter of introduction to Dr. Charcot, 
but the other day, as I was very sick myself, Susie 
obtained the address of a Dr. Warren. As soon as 
I was able to drive I went to his office, and, lo! 
he proved to be the same physician that I had 
met in Frank Smith's room at 7 Rue de la Bienfai- 
sance. He said he remembered me, and I know he did, 

1 Sir James Hannen afterward came to New York, and visited Mrs. 
Dillon and family at 671 Madison Avenue. He was the recipient of 
much attention, and a dinner was given at Delmonico's in his honor 
by the Hon. Addison Brown, Judge of the United States District Court. 

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for he said at once, ' ' You are Mrs. Judge Dillon. "... 
So last night, when Annie was taken sick, we sent for 
him. This morning he came, and hopes to get her 
good will and consent to let him try to help her. . . . 
John goes every morning to his lessons— Latin, 
arithmetic, and French. He seems to like his teach- 
ers, and the principal told me to-day that he thought 
him a very bright boy, and he hoped, after his diffi- 
dence wore off, to get him into the school. I had a 
letter to-day from Mrs. Kemp, in London, telling me 
good-by, as they will sail on Thursday for home. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, Thursday, October 19, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letter of October 1 reached me yesterday. I 
have been in my new quarters, No. 52 bis Boulevard 
Haussmann, just a week to-day. ... As I am to be in 
Europe a year, there are many desirable things for 
the house I can bring home free of duty. I got this 
idea from Mrs. Goddard (Mrs. Judge Choate's sister), 
who is buying rugs and portieres and bronzes, all of 
which are half-price here, to take home to her new 
house. She saw by the "Eegister " of last week that 
we were here, and so next day, Sunday though it 
was, she brought her two children and spent the after- 
noon. She had been at Carlsbad all summer. She 
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is going to Florence for the winter, and is trying 
to persuade me to do the same, but I shall move 
as Annie's health dictates. At present Dr. Warren 
seems to have won her confidence, and she is now 
following his directions quite closely, taking elec- 
tricity in a new form that is used now very much for 
spine trouble. . . . The weather here is terrible, rainy 
and cold, and I fear that it will drive me away before 
his treatment can benefit Annie. 

Walking along the street the other day, a lady came 
running after me, calling, "Mrs. Dillon, Mrs. Dillon! " 
I looked and saw Mrs. William Ware of St. Louis. 
She had just arrived, and was going about the city, 
guide-book in hand, looking for quarters. . . . 

General and Mrs. Belknap have taken apartments 
on the Avenue d'Antin. It is mostly Americans who 
come to this house, and I am satisfied here. The 
table is good enough, but the house is furnished shab- 
bily. I went to the Bon Marche and bought the silk 
quilt you have wanted so long, and am using it to cover 
Annie. You can get very good Daghestan rugs here 
cheap. I shall buy some and spread them around on 
our bare floors, and then take them home. 

John is getting on very well with his studies. He 
does not study much at home, but is always prompt to 
go to his lessons, and seems interested. He will go on 
with his violin lessons next week. . . . 

I have sent to Liverpool for our trunk of winter 
clothes. If it comes I must fix up my things that I 
had last winter before I began to wear mourning. . . . 

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Hnna price Dillon 



I lie awake nights wondering what arrangements you 
will make for the winter. . . . 

A. P. D. 



To John F. Dillon 

Paris, October 29, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Last Tuesday I received your letter of October 8, 
and yesterday yours of the 15th came to hand. . . . 
I don't know whether or not I told you that Annie was 
being treated by electricity. However, I '11 take the 
chance of repeating myself, and tell you that she took 
the electricity three times and it nearly killed her. 
Dr. Warren has been trying to persuade Annie to let 
him call Dr. Charcot, but she would not consent until 
Dr. Warren said the electricity had failed and he would 
like to consult with some one about what he should do 
now. Dr. Charcot is at the head of the medical world. 
Last night he was called as consulting physician. I 
presented Dr. Langenbeck's letter, and he was pleased 
to get it, and he prescribed. His real opinion I sup- 
pose I never shall know. . . . 

John is going on with his lessons. He learns French 
very fast, and I presume he does well in Latin and 
arithmetic, though I do not hear those lessons given 
and have no opportunity to judge. The French is 
given in my rooms, and I can see how quickly he gets 
it. His teacher is the best I ever knew. . . . 

Affectionately, A. P. D. 

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/IDemoir anfc> /IDemorfals 



To John F. Dillon 

Paris, Sunday, November 5, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letter of October 22 reached me yesterday. It 
is four months to-day since we sailed out of New York 
harbor, and it seems so many years. I think Annie is 
worse than ever. Dr. Charcot assures us that there is 
no disease of the spinal cord, and that the trouble can 
be cured if she will only work with the doctors to that 
end. . . . 

I met Mrs. E. W. Stoughton a few days ago at 
Goupil's.i She said she had come over in June, in- 
tending to spend a year, but that she was homesick 
and all alone, and should go back to New York next 
month. . . . 

John is going on well with his studies. He learns 
French very fast, and has taken a violent fancy fdr 
practising on the violin. He plays "The Last Rose of 
Summer ' ' like an artist. He said the other night, ' ' If 
I could play that for papa I '11 bet he 'd get me a new 
violin, for that is his tune. " . . . 

I went the other day to the Louvre. I found my 
old friends, "The Burial of Atala," "Napoleon Visiting 
the Pest-house in Egypt, ' ' and many others, hanging 
in the same places where I left them six years ago, and 
they don't look a day older. A marble group repre- 
senting Apollo driving the horses of the sun is being 

i See Chapter II, p. 84. 
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Buna price Billon 



put on top of the Arc de Triomphe. It is a mag- 
nificent thing, though only in clay now, and placed 
there for the criticism of the public. The design has 
been approved, and it is soon to be reproduced in 
marble. . . . 

I want Lizzie to take block paper and mucilage, and 
paste tight and close all of the trunks where there 
are curtains or clothing, so as to keep moths out. 
Simply to lock a trunk won't keep them at bay, so 
where the lid joins the main part must be pasted 
tight. 

It is now twelve o'clock— everybody is in bed; it is 
about six with you, and you are just at your dinner. 
Good night. A. P. D. 

Monday morning, November 6. 
I finished my letter late last night, and when I got 
to bed I could not sleep, and of course thought of 
something I meant to say. I want you to go to Mora, 
the photographer on the west side of Broadway, and 
order six photos each of Annie and Susie. Annie's is 
a bust picture, no hat on, and a white lace dress. Su- 
sie's is a standing picture with white lace dress, 
and she is holding back a curtain with one hand. I 
want these particular ones and no others. They are 
the best Annie ever had, or ever will have, for she 
gets thinner and thinner. Please attend to this at 
once. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

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To John F. Dillon 

Paris, November 7, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I inclose the deed received a day or two ago, which 
I have executed. . . . The weather is miserable; it 
rains all the time. I have to watch John day and 
night to prevent him from having rheumatism. Dr. 
Warren keeps as close watch over him as over 
Annie. I have him covered with red flannel. He has 
outgrown all his clothes, overcoat and all. He is five 
feet seven inches tall. . . . 

I want to buy a set of dinner-dishes, and they will 
cost five hundred francs. The rugs and portieres here 
can be bought for one third the price at home. There 
is a portiere at six hundred and seventy-five francs 
that has all the colors of our carpet and curtains. I 
want to buy it awfully, and think I shall. . . . 

John is learning to play the violin excellently. I 
think you will be glad I have kept him at it. 
Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 



To John F. Dillon 

Paris, Sunday, November 12, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letter of October 29 reached me yesterday. It 
inclosed the duplicate of the check received a week 
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Hnna ©rice Dillon 



ago, and of which I wrote immediately. I don't know 
how I will spend the money, but think it will be for a 
clock for the dining-room and a handsome dinner- 
set. . . . 

When you write to Jackson Hirschl, tell him I 
read his remarks on the occasion of H. M. Martin's 
death with great interest, and say to him also that 
I wrote him a long letter from Schwalbach, but never 
received any answer. 

Last evening, as I was leaving the dining-room, a man 
about fifty-five years of age walked up and asked me 
if I was not Mrs. Judge Dillon, saying, " I am Mr. 
Asay of Chicago. " He then brought up his wife, and 
we had a pleasant chat. They were to leave Paris next 
morning for London, and will sail for New York on 
the 25th. Mr. Asay says he will surely call upon you 
and tell you he saw me. There is a General Corse in 
this hotel who told us that he knew you and my father 
very well. 1 

Mrs. Goddard has just been here, with her children, 
to say good-by. They leave for Florence to-morrow. 
I think I shall follow in two weeks. 

Don't let any one give the oleanders water for a 
month at least, and not then unless the dirt is dusty 
and will crumble in the fingers. I think they will 
go very well till the beginning of the year without 
water. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

1 An Iowa general who won distinction in the Civil War. 

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To John F. Dillon 

Paris, November 23, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

This is Thursday, and your letter of November 4 ar- 
rived yesterday, and to-day the letters to the children 
and myself, inclosing checks to each of us, and sent 
the day you left for Wilmington, North Carolina. . . . 
I want to leave here the first week in December for 
Nice. Annie has tried the treatment, and it gave her 
excruciating pain, so it had to be given up. . . . 

Yesterday I received a letter from Mrs. Goddard, 
who is in Florence, and she says : "I wish I were 
back in Paris, for we have been in the midst of a 
hail-storm ever since we arrived. I think I will go 
no farther south, but go back to Nice. ' ' And so I am 
perplexed and worried about where to go and what to 
do. General and Mrs. Corse, of whom I wrote you 
before, are going to Nice, and if I can get ready 
in a week, we will go together. His wife is a lovely 
woman, is a great friend of Miss Mary Crownin- 
shield of Charlestown, and has fallen desperately in 
love with Susie and Annie. General Corse once lived 
in Burlington, Iowa, and says he knew you as far 
back as '61. He was all through the war, serving 
under Sherman ; since then he has built bridges and 
railroads under General Dodge, and lives now in 
Boston. He is a very pleasant man. . . . 

It is eleven o'clock. I am worn out, and too tired 

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Hnna price Dillon 



to write. General and Mrs. Corse have been in the 
rooms all evening, and prevented my finishing my let- 
ter before, but I must get it into the mail, so as to 
catch Saturday's steamer. I have had the children's 
pictures and mine taken, and am to have them next 
week. Good night. 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, Sunday, November 2^ 1882, 
Dear Johnnie: 

I wrote you last Friday, in answer to a letter re- 
ceived the day before, containing a check for each of 
us. Yesterday I received your letter from Wilming- 
ton, which inclosed a piece of live-oak, or, as you 
say, " evergreen oak." . . . 

The new treatment, like the electricity, proved, in 
Annie's case, to be more of an aggravation than a 
relief . Her sufferings are intense. 

This morning the sun shone for the first time in a 
month, and she thought she felt better, so we took a 
carriage and went to see St. Germain de l'Auxerrois, 
St. Eustache, and St. Eoch. Though we did the whole 
in an hour and a half, it was too much for her, and 
she is now in bed. . . . To-morrow, if she is able to go 
to the place, she will try a vapor-bath. Dr. Warren 
thinks that will relieve her pain. If she gets no relief 
after five baths, she is to abandon that, too, and then 
I shall start immediately for Nice. By the time this 
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/IDemoir anb /fDemorials 



letter reaches you I shall be there, or on the way, for 
it will take three days at least to make the journey 
an easy one. I have no faith in the vapor-baths, but 
do not like to condemn them without a trial, or fail 
to try everything or anything that may do her 
good. . . . Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

The letters in this chapter which follow were all 
written from Nice, and give an account of Mrs. Dillon's 
anxious and uncomfortable journey to that place, and 
of- her life and experience there down to the close of 
the year 1882. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, December 4, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

We arrived here yesterday, Sunday, at four o'clock; 
left Paris at seven o'clock Saturday evening and came 
straight through. We had a very hard trip, as it 
turned cold about two hours out of Paris— so cold that 
the ice gathered on the windows as it used to do in 
Iowa, and stayed there until we reached Lyons, when 
it melted suddenly, as if we had run into an oven. 
The sleeping-cars of this country are only a sort of 
hard lounge that you can stretch out on, without "a 
particle of cover, not even a sheet. If we had not 
carried our shawls, cloaks, and all sorts of wraps in 
straps, to avoid bringing so many trunks, we would 
have frozen to death; as it was, we were stiff with 
255 



Hnna Price Billon 



cold, and Annie suffered more than tongue can tell. 
We— Susie and I— watched her the whole night, and 
tried to keep her warm. We got our rubber bottles 
filled with bo ilin g water at one place, and kept shifting 
them from place to place all night. Xot until nine 
o'clock Sunday morning was there any change: then 
the Southern sun struck us and we were comfortable. 
With a view to make the journey easy for Annie, and 
to avoid making any changes, like getting off the train 
to stop overnight. I took what is called a coupe-salon. 
which contained a little room to sit in and three or 
five places to he down. The train goes right through 
in twenty- three hours, without stopping. They told 
me. among other things in portraying the advantages 
of these coupes, that we could have it all to ourselves: 
so I paid my one thousand and three francs, eighty cen- 
times. Well, as I have said. I paid that large suni. and 
thought that we should have it to ourselves ; but when 
I got down there I found a man in the coupe, and no 
amount of talking would oust him. The railroad offi- 
cials informed me that he bought his place three days 
before, and that the man who sold me mine at the office 
knew it when he sold it to me the day before. Fortu- 
nately, the man proved to be a gentleman. John said it 
was G-ambetta— that he had seen his portrait in a win- 
dow in Paris, and recognized him from it. . . . 

I have seen nothing of this city as yet. From 
where we are we can see but a patch of the Medi- 
terranean, but the mountains imm ediately around 
us. and the numerous villas, make the view very 
256 



flDemoir anfc /Memorials 



picturesque. I could get a great deal of pleasure out 
of my travels if I were not so anxious. . . . The chil- 
dren send love, and I must say good-by and good 
night. Affectionately, 



A. P. D. 



To Mrs. McCullough 



Grand Hotel de Nice, 
Nice, December 6, 1882. 
My dear Friend : 

Your last letter reached me two or three days before 
I^left Paris, but the hurry and trouble of packing, 
as well as the care that Annie's weak state requires, 
prevented my answering. We left Paris last Saturday, 
and arrived here next day at four o'clock. We had a 
most uncomfortable trip. The weather became very 
cold about the middle of the night, and we suffered 
much on account of it. I had no idea they ever had 
such cold snaps on this continent. As soon as we 
approached the Mediterranean it became milder, and 
when we reached Cannes it was as if we had been 
suddenly transferred to a different world. The sun 
shone as bright and warm as it does with us in June. 
Whole hedges of red and white roses grew beside the 
railroad, and as far as the eye could reach we saw 
orange-trees in every stage of growth, some bearing 
at one and the same time the blossom and the green 
and the ripe fruit. 

It is a beautiful country, blessed plenteously with 
fruits and flowers, and cursed with myriads of beg- 

257 



Hnna price Dillon 



gars. As I sit here writing I can see the Mediterra- 
nean, with its white sails, and the Pyrenees, capped 
with a blue mist, while the sun shines with summer 
heat upon the whole. God grant that such beauty 
and such air may bring what I most desire— health to 
my suffering one! My husband still dwells alone in 
his deserted home, and occasionally sends me a wail 
across the waves because of his loneliness. Thanks- 
giving Day was a dreary day for both of us, and 
brought most vividly to my mind the happy party 
that gathered round our table a year ago. 

Very affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, December 11, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I am just now in receipt of your letter of November 
26. . . .1 wrote you a week ago yesterday from 
Grand Hotel de Nice. I was there only five days. 
Annie was very sick after we arrived, and was not 
able to leave her bed until the day I left to come here. 
I am now at Foulley-Eoth's. The location is good, 
standing to the south and overlooking the ocean ; the 
table is execrable, and the house full of idle Americans. 

As soon as Annie made the discovery that we 

were out of sight of the ocean, she moaned until 

Susie started out in search of rooms from which we 

could see the water, and succeeded in getting miser- 

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able ones here. They are up five flights of stairs, but 
they have from one window a fine view of the Medi- 
terranean, and Annie can hear the splashing of the 
waves and is satisfied. She has not been out of the 
rooms since she was carried into them last Friday . . . . 

I am very tired, and can fully appreciate the senti- 
ment of the song that is now being sung outside my 
window by the most mellow of Italian voices, under a 
clear blue sky, as it swells and ripples through the air 
-"I have Sighed to Rest Me." 

As soon as Annie is enough better, I am going out to 
look for a school for John. We study French together, 
and we have both learned a great deal. His violin- 
playing will astonish you. His teacher told me, be- 
fore we left Paris, to keep him at work, for he said he 
had great talent. 

When you write Colonel GJ-antt, don't fail to inquire 

whether Mrs. Gantt got my long letter from Schwal- 

bach, written the 17th of August. Children send love. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Thursday, December 14, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

My No. 16 was mailed to you day before yesterday, 
but as I have just received a letter from you of the 
28th (yours of the 26th two days ago), inclosing Dr. 
Bauer's letter, I hasten to answer so that the letter 
may catch Saturday's steamer from Liverpool. . . . We 

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Hnna price Billon 



have been here nearly two weeks. For the first two 
or three days the weather was delightful, as balmy and 
bright as June weather with us ; it has rained a part 
of every day since, and Annie, of course, suffers in 
consequence. The doctor we have is German, and is 
very careful of her. He is evidently studying her 
case, and will try to help her. In the letter that I 
carried to Dr. Charcot from Dr. Langenbeck, he said 
it was perfectly absurd to have an operation performed 
on the leg, and so it goes. I don't wonder that Annie 
is disgusted with doctors. 

I have only been out of the house twice since coming 
here, so that I cannot tell you anything about Nice. 
Susie and John go every morning for letters. Mrs. 
Ware of St. Louis, who is here in another hotel, came 
a day or two ago and took Susie to Monaco, and she 
had a delightful time. I want Susie to see all she 
can. I must close and mail this letter so it may 
catch the steamer. 

Yours affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Sunday evening, December 17, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your good long letter of December 3 reached me to- 
day. While you were writing the letter we were trav- 
eling along toward this place, where we have been 
two weeks to-day. An account of that hard trip I 
have already given you. Annie has been in bed ever 

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since until to-day. This has been a rare day —blue sky, 
delightful sea-breeze, hot sun, and a balminess in the 
air that cannot be found anywhere else. ... I feel 
that Annie is much the worse for coming abroad, and 
I am very sorry we came. It is costing a fortune, and 
we are none of us being benefited in any way. What 
I hear from all quarters convinces me that Nice is the 
best place for us. Coming here is the only piece of 
good luck I have had. I only wish I could have had 
decision enough to break away from Warren and 
Charcot and come six weeks ago. . . . 
"The oleanders are in too hot a place; they must 
be taken to the front basement. In order to do this 
they must be tied up. Take a strong cord and tie it 
around the stalk at base of branches; then close the 
branches all together close. 

Mrs. Dan Corbin and her children are in this house. 
She is a confirmed invalid. Mrs. Senator McPherson 
of New Jersey is also here. . . . 

I have found a teacher for John. He will commence 

as soon as he is well enough. . . . The children send 

love. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, December 21, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

. . . John has been ill for several days with cold 
and sore throat. Dr. Camerer, who is attending Annie, 
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Buna price Dillon 



says he is satisfied that the pain in her foot is caused by 
a trouble confined to the leg, and that other troubles 
she suffers from are caused by that and the depletion 
of her system consequent upon it. He says that, while 
he is a surgeon, he does not make surgery a specialty, 
and does not feel like performing an operation with- 
out the advice of some one who does. He asked me 
to-day if he should telegraph a celebrated surgeon at 
Leipsic, Volkmann by name, asking him how much 
he will charge to come to consult with him and make 
the operation, if necessary. Of course, if Annie were 
strong enough to take the trip, I should prefer to go 
there; but as it is, he must come to her; she is too 
feeble to travel. I feel myself that none of the doc- 
tors have really done her any good. . . . 

Another Christmas is here, and it is almost as sad 
as the last. I never until the past sad year felt 
old. . . . Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Sunday, December 24, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you my No. 19 on the 21st. In that I told 
you that Dr. Camerer had suggested sending for a 
celebrated surgeon to examine Annie's foot. I told him 
to write and inquire for what sum he would come to 
Nice. This morning his answer was received, and he 
says: "I will come, make the examination and opera- 
tion, if one is necessary, for eight thousand francs. ' ' 
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I am much troubled as to what I shall answer. If I 
were sure that he could give her relief and restore 
her to health, any sum would be well spent. Cam- 
erer has watched her closely. He has advised me 
that some eminent surgeon should be called to ex- 
amine her leg, for, as he said, none but a master in 
the profession could account for a pain that ranges 
from hip to knee, and from knee to ankle and heel. 
I inquired if no other could be obtained than the 
one he suggested, and he said: "Yes; but you will 
have to pay nearly as much, and you are not sure 
that what he says is correct, whereas if you send for 
Dr. Volkmann, who is at the head of the university 
at Halle, and who has been called to fill Dr. Langen- 
beck's place at Berlin, you have the best in the world, 
and he cannot fail to tell you all about it." I gave 
him permission to ask Dr. Volkmann to come, and as 
this is the only week that he can leave the college 
(there being no clinics between Christmas and New 
Year's), I presume by the time you get this letter it will 
be all over and all well, if you get no other news. I am 
very anxious and fretted, for fear she is too weak to 
stand an operation, provided he finds one to be ne- 
cessary, and, again, whether she will be any better 
after all her sufferings and our expense. 

To-morrow is Christmas! There are great prepara- 
tions being made for a tree. Everybody has given 
money, and nearly every one is helping. I have done 
very little for the children— bought Annie a ring, Susie 
a collar-button, and John a scarf-pin. It will be a sad 
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Hnna price Billon 



day for me, and so will be the days that follow until 
I know how Annie is to get along. John is up and 
about to-day for the first time in eight days. He looks 
bad, and I think he feels miserable most of the time ; 
the climate is too enervating for people reared in our 
latitude. I have sent to the Cunard agents for a list 
of the sailings for '83. Wishing you a Merry Christ- 
mas and a Happy New Year, I close. 
Affectionately, 

, A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, December 31, 1882. 
Dear Johnnie : 

... I have had no letter since I told you in last 
Sunday's letter that I had telegraphed Dr. Volkmann, 
at Halle, to come. He has not yet arrived, but is due 
to-night or to-morrow morning. Annie and her doctor 
here both believe firmly that it is a case for a surgeon, 
and she is looking forward to Volkmann 's arrival with 
great eagerness, feeling sure he will relieve her. I 
dare not allow myself to dwell upon it. If he does 
not help her I shall be distressed indeed, for, as climate 
has failed, I shall not know what to look to if the doc- 
tors also fail. . . . 

A few days ago there came here a bride and groom. 
He had been a widower and she a widow. They were 
on a bridal tour. He was blind of one eye, and she 
had false hair and teeth. One day I met him on my 
way to the dining-room, and he asked me if I was Mrs. 
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/IDemotr ant> /ifcemoriaia 



Judge Dillon of New York. He then said he was an 
editor of a newspaper in your old circuit, and knew 
you very well. He gave me all the news. ... I had 
a letter the past week from Mrs. Goddard. She is 
coming to Nice, and wants to come to this hotel, but 
there is not a room in it vacant. She abandons her 
trip to Rome for the present— will go later. It is 
probable that I shall go with her if Annie improves 
by the beginning of March. . . . Wishing you a 
Happy New Year, I am, 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

With the preceding letter the care-laden and anx- 
ious year of 1882, so bravely borne, was brought to a 
close. Letters covering the rest of Mrs. Dillon's pres- 
ent visit to Europe are given in the next chapter. 




265 



CHAPTER VII 

LIFE IN EUROPE {Continued) 

1882-83 

Life in Nice — Dr. Volkmann — 1883, Mrs. Dillon visits Genoa, Naples, 
Sorrento, Rome, Florence, Venice, Milan, Como, Lucerne, Munich, 
Carlsbad, Vienna, Berlin, and Dresden — Husband visits Europe and 
returns with family. 

LETTERS TO JOHN F. DILLON, MRS. SILSBEE, AND 
MRS. MCCULLOUGH 




HE last chapter left Mrs. Dillon in Nice at the 
close of the year 1882. She remained there, 
*£M with her two daughters and her son John, 
until the middle of February, 1883, when they all 
started for southern Italy, and during the spring and 
summer of 1883 visited Genoa, Naples, Sorrento, Rome, 
Florence, Venice, Milan, Como, Lucerne, Munich, 
Carlsbad, Vienna, Berlin, and Dresden. 

On July 4, 1883, her husband, accompanied by his 
young friend Hugh T. Reid, sailed for Europe on the 
Bothnia, met Mrs. Dillon at Berlin, and traveled 
with the family until they returned to New York, 

2m 



.flDemoir anfc /iDemorials 



reaching there September 18. During the winter of 
1883-84 the family resided at their home, 671 Madison 
Avenue. In the present chapter the narrative of 
Mrs. Dillon's life in Europe in 1882-83 is continued. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, January 7, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letter of December 17 was received yesterday. 
I had been expecting it ever since Monday. 

Dr. Volkmann, from Leipsic, came Tuesday and left 
yesterday. He made several examinations of Annie's 
foot, leg, and back, and assured me, on his word as a 
surgeon of first standing, that there is no need of any 
operation. He said that although she is a great suf- 
ferer, she can be cured by food and regimen; that 
there is no disease of the spine— it is as completely 
without curvature as any he ever examined ; and that 
I believe, for I was present when the examination 
was made, and could see for myself. He has given 
directions as to treatment, and written out his opinion 
in full for you. This, and only this, he did, and then 
charged eight thousand francs. 

I told you about having met Mr. and Mrs. Fitch. 
They arrived from Rome and Naples this afternoon. 
They have had a delightful time, and start for Spain 
the 15th of this month. They want Susie very much 
to go with them, but as Annie is so miserable, she 
does not think of it at all. 

Now, note what I am going to tell you. Do you re- 
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member a photo profile that you once had taken in 
Milwaukee ? You have one in your little private 
pocket-album in your drawer, I think ; if not, I have 
one in a little light- wood frame that we bought at 
Abbey Craig, Scotland, and I think I put it in the 
fourth-floor front room, together with the many things 
that were carried and piled up there. I know it is 
there some place. I want it sent to me, for, if I go to 
Eome, I intend to have it cut in cameo. I wish that 
one in particular, as it requires a perfect side face to 
cut from— nothing else will do. 

I had a long letter from Hymie giving an account 
of the theatricals. . . . 

Pappy writes me that Billy 1 has a boy! Lutie is 
fifteen. . . . 

I forgot to say that your letter contained checks 
for the children and myself. We did not make much 
of Christmas, but I suppose now the children will treat 
themselves to some things. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 
To John F. Dillon 

Nice, January 14, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I received your cablegram last night at twelve 
o'clock; the time of sending was not given, only dated 
January 13. When you write me tell me at what hour 
you sent it. I have this moment (eleven o'clock) sent 
the answer, saying : i ' Volkmann came ; no operation 

1 Mrs. Dillon's brother, William H. Price. 

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flfcemofr anfc /Ifcemorials 



needed ' ' ; and I wonder if it will reach you straight, 
and when. It has been raining constantly for six 
days. Annie has much pain in consequence. The 
only change that I see so far is that she eats a little 
better and more regularly. I shall stay and give her 
the opportunity of the baths at Carlsbad. She is urging 
me to take her to Italy— insists that she is well enough 
to go. I sincerely wish she were able. I would not 
begrudge sixteen hundred dollars for travel, but I do 
begrudge it to a doctor who has done so little for 
her. . . . 

Gambetta's remains were buried here yesterday 
in a severe rain-storm. His father and sisters live at 
Nice, and it was his request to be brought here. It is 
not generally, or rather publicly, known how he came 
to his death. . . . 

Don't forget to send the photo I wrote for in my 
last letter. Mrs. Fitch had her husband's portrait cut 
in cameo, and it is very handsome. The Fitches came 
up from Florence and passed a week here at the Con- 
tinental. They left yesterday for Spain, and were 
sorry that Susie did not go. 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Saturday night, January 20, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I received your letter of January 1 on Wednesday 
last. . . . 

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Now about the oleanders. . You write very content- 
edly that they are losing their old leaves and putting 
out new ones. Oleanders never lose their leaves unless 
they are dying for water. I knew, when you wrote 
me that Sarah had them at the south window in the 
kitchen, that that would be the result. They are too 
warm and too dry. They should be watered now twice 
a month, and, when April comes, brought up into 
the front room in the basement, not left in the 
kitchen. If these directions are followed they will be 
all right. . . . 

You ask if I want anything else done to the house, 
and I answer: Yes; I want a steam-heating appara- 
tus put in; Hess & Co. to put in the three front 
windows, stained glass at top ; also handsome stained 
glass in front door ; and then I guess I can get on for 
a year or two. . . . 

Did photos reach you, and how do you like them? * 
I sent the same number to mother, and some to 
Hymie. Susie goes to a French school the half of each 
day. She was invited to the Prefecture to a grand 
ball, and went. There is another at the same place on 
the 31st, and she expects to go ; also to a swell german 
given by an English lady who saw and fell in love 
with her, and invited her. Children send love, and I 
must say good night. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 



l This is the photograph taken in Paris in December, 1882, or Janu- 
ary, 1883. (See Chapter I, p. 40, note.) 



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jflDemoir anfc ZlDemortals 



To Mrs. Silsbee 

Nice, January 21, 1883. 
My dear Friend : 

I received yesterday your letter of December 29. 
I have thought much of you of late. I left Schwalbach 
a few days after writing you, and went down to the 
famous watering-place, Wiesbaden, to consult Dr. Lan- 
genbeck. He examined Annie's case and pronounced 
it one of confirmed neuralgia, and as it was raining 
constantly there, he advised me to go to Paris, hoping 
that a change to bright and fair weather would bene- 
fit her. The 1st of December I came here, having been 
told that the warm climate and bright sky would re- 
lieve her. I have not found it so, for she is very mis- 
erable indeed, and suffers all the time. I begin to be 
discouraged, though she keeps up her courage and 
feels that a few weeks at Carlsbad will set her all 
right. 

This is a lovely spot, the skies blue, sun bright, and 
innumerable flowers of every variety. There is a 
flower market every morning, where we go and carry 
home bushels of roses, pinks, violets, pansies, lilies-of- 
the- valley, hyacinths, and many flowers the names of 
which I do not know. One can get a large market- 
basket full for a dollar. Just think of it ! You can 
form no idea of their beauty or their abundance. I 
have found here a flower that I have often read about 
but never saw. It is the eucalyptus. You have un- 
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doubt edly heard of it. They say that a spray of it 
kept in a sleeping- or even a sick-room will destroy all 
impurities in the air. Susie is well. John is a great 
boy five feet seven inches tall ; his health seems to be 
good. My husband expects to come over sometime 
this spring and spend the summer. He is having a 
pretty lonesome time, poor fellow, and will no doubt 
be glad to have us all at home again. 

I see you still retain your fondness for Davenport 
and its people. Well, I don't wonder, for I love to go 
there myself, though I had not nearly so many friends 
as you. . . . 

With the same love that I had for you in Davenport 
(only stronger), I am, 

Affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Monday evening, January 22, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you' a letter, my No. 25, on the 20th. . . . 
I wish you would send Dr. Volkmann a check (eight 
thousand francs), for, while he could do nothing for 
Annie, he has relieved our minds forever concerning 
the necessity for an operation; that is settled; also 
the question as to whether there is curvature of the 
spine. . . . 

Wednesday, January 24. I did not get time to finish 
my letter the day it was commenced, so take it up 
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/I&emotr anfc /Ifoemortals 



to-day. Yesterday Dr. Volkmann sent, through Dr. 
Camerer, his opinion, and I will inclose it to you. 
He has had some bungler put it into English, and 
you will have to make it out, as I did, the best you 
can. 

You say you don't like Susie's picture. Did you 
not get two— one without hat, and the other with a lit- 
tle hat, or cap, and a cloak? I sent two of each of the 
girls to both you and mother. To Hymie I sent one 
of each of us. . . . 

Yesterday a lady and gentleman came here from 
Brooklyn ; they proved to be friends of Dr. Armor. I 
found this out from some persons in the house whom 
the lady had asked who I was. They told her, and she 
said: " Oh, yes; my doctor saved her son's life in an 
attack of rheumatism of the heart. " 1 It seems every- 
body comes to Nice. Last Sunday Bishop Little John 
of Long Island preached in the American chapel. I 
hear that Miss Camack, a cousin of Susie Brown's, is 
at the Grand Hotel. Susie and John have gone with 
some Philadelphia people to Mentone over the Corniche 
Eoad. They took a diligence, and will return this 
evening. Next Monday night there is a fancy ball at 
the Prefecture. Susie will be " Marguerite " on that 
occasion. . . . 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



i Dr. Samuel Q. Armor, an old friend, who was the consulting physi- 
cian with Dr. Ranney in the severe illness of the son John in 1881, 
narrated on a previous page. (See Chapter V, p. 221.) 



273 



Hnna price Dillon 



To Mrs. McCullotjgh 

Nice, January 24, 1883. 
My dear Friend : 

Your good long letter of December 31 reached me 
two days ago. It is now nearly two months since I 
came to Nice. Most of the time the weather has been 
fair, but for the last two days we have had the mis- 
tral in all its fury. Last night the temperature fell 
to one degree below zero, and to-day it is snowing 
for the first time in five years. I have no plans for 
the future. I may stay here till April, and then go to 
Carlsbad in May; or, if Annie should be better, I 
shall go from here to Naples and Eome, and then work 
up through Italy and Germany to Carlsbad. 

The holidays did not bring me much pleasure ; with 
Annie so miserable, and the recollections of last New 
Year's Day (associated with my sister's illness and 
death), I found it difficult even to be cheerful. You 
say in your letter that you will send me your picture 
very soon ; I shall be impatient now till it reaches me. 
I had some pictures taken in Paris to send to my hus- 
band; he seems pleased with them. 1 I will send you 
one, and you must say what you think of it. 
Ever affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The next letter briefly narrates a visit to Monte 
Carlo, and the one following announces the depar- 

1 As to this picture, see Chapter I, p. 40, note. 
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flDemotr anb /fliemorials 



ture from Nice to Sorrento by the way of Genoa and 
Naples. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Sunday morning, 

February 11, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you on the 7th acknowledging receipt of 
checks, and promised to write again to-day. ... I 
will leave here this week for Sorrento. It is cold and 
unpleasant here, and I go to Sorrento because I know 
of no other place where there is a probability of warm 
weather. I am sorry to leave Nice on John's account, 
for he has excellent teachers. . . . 

I certainly was glad to see Monte Carlo, for without 
doubt it is a most beautiful place, and people who go 
everywhere and see everything say that the orchestra 
which plays every afternoon in the same building 
with the gambling-room makes the best music in the 
world. The whole is free to all, being supported by the 
fools who play and lose. There were three roulette- 
tables doing a land-office business, and two trente- 
et-quarante tables crowded with eager faces which 
afforded me much entertainment. Some were sad but 
hopeful, others rejoicing over their enormous gains. I 
saw one woman about my age, who played recklessly, 
scoop up fifteen hundred francs. I sometimes feel 
sorry I have not more money to buy beautiful things 
that cannot be gotten in America, but I would not 
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Hnna price Dillon 



get money that way if I could; my conscience 
forbids. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Nice, Tuesday, February 13, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I decided suddenly to leave for Sorrento to-day. 
My trunks are packed and have gone down-stairs. I 
start in two hours by rail for Genoa. I have tickets for 
the round trip from Genoa by steamer to Naples, 
thence to Sorrento, an hour distant. My tickets take 
me from Naples to Rome, thence to Florence and 
Venice, and can be used any time within a year. It is 
pouring rain, and I suppose it will keep it up. Nice 
has lost its charm for me since the rain began. I will 
drop you a line from Genoa to-morrow before going 
on the steamer. The steamer is a transatlantic one, 
and, they tell me, very comfortable. It leaves at eight 
and arrives at Leghorn next morning at six o'clock, 
staying long enough for the passengers to take a run 
by rail to Pisa for a few hours. In the evening it 
starts for Naples, and arrives next morning at ten 
o'clock. I am going to the Hotel Nobile for a day, 
and then to Sorrento. I expect to be deathly sick, 
but it is the easiest way to take Annie, and so must 
risk it. 

Good-by. 

A. P. D. 
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/Ifcemoir ant) flfcemotiais 



As stated in the last letter, Mrs. Dillon left Nice for 
Italy, February 13. She visited successively Naples, 
Sorrento, Rome, Florence, Venice, and Milan ; and her 
life and experiences in those places are related in the 
letters which follow. 

To John F. Dillon 

Hotel Nobile, Naples, February 19, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you from Genoa. We arrived here yester- 
day afternoon after a very pleasant trip ; no one sea- 
sick excepting myself, and that only for a few hours. 
We reached Leghorn in the rain, and too late to get 
the train for Pisa. At Sorrento I hope to get into the 
Tramontano, where Mrs. Goddard is, if they can 
give me sunny rooms on the entresol, or first floor. 
I want to get away from here as soon as possible, for 
I don't feel well; I am so chilly and uncomfortable. 

Yesterday, while driving through the crowd that 
always fills Italian cities on Sunday, I saw a man in the 
mass of heads take off his hat and swing it high. I 
supposed it was some one recognizing an acquaintance 
in one of the hundreds of carriages, and only turned 
to look once more, when, to my surprise and delight, I 
found it to be John Munroe of Paris. When we reached 
our hotel, and while bargaining for rooms, in he 
walked, all out of breath. His coming was timely, for 
they were trying to compel me to go to the fourth 
floor, when he interfered and said; "No; give Mrs. 
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Hnna iprtce EHlIon 



Dillon my room, for one ; I can better go there, and will 
do so." Whereupon he conducted me up to look at 
it, gathered up his traps, and left me in possession. 
Last night he sat beside me at table d'hote, and invited 
Susie and me to go to the opera with him; but, as it 
was Sunday, I declined. He has gone with a party of 
twelve or fifteen to Pompeii. Susie did not feel well 
enough to go, but as soon as Annie is able to under- 
take it, we shall all go together. 

This morning Susie, Annie, and I took a long drive 
round the bay. It was a glorious sight, and I wished 
you were here to enjoy it. Love from all. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To John F. Dillon 

Hotel Nobile, Naples, 
Friday, February 22, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

About a half-hour ago I received your letter of 
February 4, in answer to my two of January 10 and 
14. Just think ; it takes nearly a month to get an an- 
swer to a letter! The weather since our arrival, all 
but one day, has been lovely, and this morning at 
eight o'clock we left here for Pompeii. Annie was 
carried in a chair all through the dead city, and stood 
the trip very well. Sometimes I think she will never 
see her home again; then, when she rallies, and 
dresses, and enters into all that is going on around 
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her, I feel very much encouraged, and am glad that 
I had the will to bring her abroad. . . . 

I received a despatch to-day from Mrs. Goddard in 
Sorrento. She says she has secured pleasant, sunny 
rooms for me, and I shall leave here Saturday morning 
by a little steamer that crosses the bay in two hours, 
and lands so near the hotel that Annie can be carried 
to it in a chair. ... I am very glad you went to see 
Mrs. Reid. ... s 

I must now close my letter and go to bed, and in 

the morning begin to make arrangements for Sorrento. 

Children send love. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

The three following letters describe Mrs. Dillon's 
two weeks' sojourn in Sorrento, and her departure for 
Rome. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Sorrento, Hotel Tramontano, 
February 23, 1883. 
My dear Friend : 

I left Nice two weeks since for this place, and ar- 
rived two days ago. I went to Genoa by rail, and 
there took a steamer down the Mediterranean to 
Naples, stopping four days at Genoa and one at Leg- 
horn. 

This place is lovely— Vesuvius in sight, and, by the 

way, threatening an eruption. They say he has not 

been so wrathy for a long time. He is constantly 

throwing up red-hot stones, and the flames are at 

279- 



Hnna price HWlon 



times many feet high. Pompeii is not far away, and 
it seems as if you could stretch out your hands across 
the beautiful bay and touch Naples. I shall stay here 
a month, and try to be in Eome for Easter. We are 
all hoping that this climate will do something for 
Annie. The air to-day is balmy and like June. Peo- 
ple are walking about without wraps and with sun- 
umbrellas. 

I am much interested in all your accounts about 
Davenport and its people. I wonder if I shall be there 
again, except when I go on sad errands. 1 My husband 
still delays setting the time for his coming. Union 
Pacific troubles occupy him, and, I fear, will prevent 
his sailing till late, probably May. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

The Syrene, Sorrento, February 28, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your long letter of February 11 came to-day. We 
left Naples and came here last Saturday. We are at 
the same hotel with the Goddards, the Syrene. It 
is located on a cliff which rises perpendicularly out of 
the Mediterranean ; a pebble dropped from a balcony 
outside my window falls into the water very near the 
opening in the rocks from which the siren used to 
emerge to charm the unwary sailor. On one side of the 

1 Referring to the occasion on which she accompanied to Davenport 
the remains of her sister. (See Chapter V, p. 206.) 

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/IDemoir anfc> /IDemorials 



hotel is the house, nearly in ruins, occupied by Tasso's 
sister; on the other, the house occupied by Tasso him- 
self, which has now become the Hotel Tramontano, and 
is kept by the same man who keeps the Syrene. They 
are the best-kept hotels I have found in Europe. I am 
en pension here at eleven francs each, wood and lights 
extra. My wood is a great item, as they charge five 
francs for about an armful, and I have to keep two 
fires. . . . 

I think your idea about leaving the stained-glass 
windows till I get home is good. I was jesting when 
I suggested them, but as long as you take it in earnest, 
and consent, I am willing to wait. . . . 

I shall leave here about the 20th of this month for 
Eome, and stay one week or perhaps ten days— wo 
more, as I am afraid to be there longer. From there 
I go to Florence for two or three weeks. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. Dillon. 

The next mentions the unfortunate death, in Paris, 
of a distinguished lawyer of Dubuque, Iowa, at whose 
home Mrs. Dillon had once been entertained. 

To John F. Dillon 

Hotel Tramontano and Tasso and Syrene, Sorrento, 
Saturday night, March 3, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

The above is a picture of our hotels, three in num- 
ber. I don't owe you a letter, but this paper has just 
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been presented to me, in order, I presume, to advertise 
the house, so I employ it, and I shall do it by telling of 
a strange thing I heard this morning. 

Last night there arrived at the hotel a party of five 
women from Eome. After dinner one came to me to 
say that she had heard of me in New York from the 
Armstrongs. This morning after breakfast one of the 
party sat down beside me and began to talk of Paris, 
Nice, and Naples, and wound up by saying : ' ' Though 
I was in Paris two months, I knew very little of it, 
for in the pension where I was there was a death 
among the Americans, and I felt so much sympathy 
for the wife that I devoted myself to her. ' ' I replied : 
"Well, the French are so much afraid of death that I 
suppose they treated the poor widow dreadfully— 
probably took all her money and then turned her out 
of doors." "No," she said; "the death was under 
singular circumstances,— the result of an accident,— 
and they behaved very well. ' ' 

She then related the following: "A gentleman and 
his wife came there to board. He was suffering from 
some derangement of the stomach consequent upon 
seasickness, and remarked, one day at dinner, that he 
would give a good deal to be relieved. The lady of 
the house [who, by the way, proved to be none other 
than my old landlady, Mme. Forney, of the Faubourg 
St. Honore] said: ' I can cure you. I will give you a 
glass of mineral water to-morrow before breakfast, 
which you must take in milk.' He agreed to take it; 
so next morning he rang the bell and called for the 
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/IDemotr anfc /IDemorials 



water, and the maid came with it all prepared. He 
raised the glass and drank quickly nearly half of it, 
when he dropped the glass and exclaimed, ' I am poi- 
soned ! ' There happened to be a physician in the 
house, who gave him an emetic, but could not save 
him. Upon looking into the matter, it was discovered 
that an empty mineral bottle had been used to put 
oxalic acid in, and the girl had made a mistake and 
given him that instead of the water. ' ' 

The lady went on to say that the widow was almost 
distracted, and that she had stopped with her day 
and night. They are wealthy people, and he was, I 
hear, a prominent lawyer in Dubuque, Iowa. Of 
course I asked the name. It was Griffith ! You knew 
him well, did n't you? 1 

I remember, when I was in Dubuque with you once, 
they gave an entertainment, and I went. I do not 
forget the impression their house made upon me. It 
was the grandest I had then seen. Well, such was 
his untimely end. He realized his condition, and told 
his wife to send for a gentleman friend of the family 
to come and take her home. She did so, and a month 

1 Referring to this incident, her husband wrote : 

"671 Madison Avenue, Sunday, March, 1883. 
" My dear Wife : 

"... I cannot get over the shock of Griffith's tragic death. I have an 
impression that his general health was much impaired. He was nomi- 
nated by the Democrats for Congress not long ago, but was not suc- 
cessful. He was a Baltimorean. I recollect well when he first came to 
Iowa. He was a good lawyer, one of the best in the State, and has 
argued many cases before me in the Supreme and Federal courts. 
Mme. Forney can never cease to reproach and blame herself for his 
untimely end. . . . 

"J. F. D." 

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afterward started with his body. Had you heard of 
it before? Is n't it strange that you cannot go so far 
from home as not to hear of those you know, and those 
who know you? . . . 

Louise Collier wrote me a long and kind letter from 
London, that I shall answer soon. 

To-day is cold, and the Tramontano wind is blowing a 
fierce gale. The Mediterranean is as gray and angry 
as though it had never smiled. Vesuvius is covered 
with snow, and it is altogether a day better suited to 
a northern climate than sunny Italy. I wanted and 
intended to stay here until the 1st of April, but if 
this weather continues I shall leave soon. Have al- 
ready written to Eome for rooms. Your newspapers 
still continue to follow me. I have to-night those 
giving an account of the death of the two prominent 
New York men— ex- Governor Morgan and William E. 
Dodge. How much they will be missed, particularly 
the latter! But who would deny him the rest into 
which he has entered, and so richly merited? Only 
those left can be pitied. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Naples, Sunday, March 11, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I have had no letter from you since yours of the 
11th (a month ago). ... I send to-morrow a deposit 
of two hundred dollars to the Cunard agents, to se- 
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fl&emoir anfc /iDemortals 



cure my passage tickets home on the Servia, Sep- 
tember 8. 1 

I was in Sorrento two weeks; left there yesterday. 
In all that time we had but three fair days. Annie 
was much worse in consequence. I shall leave 
here to-morrow, or next day at farthest, for Rome. 
May Darling is to join us there. Sorrento is a lovely 
spot in good weather, and the hotel the best I was 
ever in. I never was treated so well, and never left a 
house with so much regret. I should have enjoyed a 
stay of two more months. 

Mr. Goddard came a few days ago. Will spend the 
summer, and sail for home on the Servia when we go. 
The Goddards are very jolly people— have always 
something on hand in the way of a drive, sail, or 
walk. The night he arrived his wife had the tarantella 
danced, at her own expense, in the marble hall, and 
then invited us to her parlor to a little supper, that 
she had the hotel provide, to surprise her husband 
and friends. 

I sent Susie Price a photo. I wonder if she got 

it. . . . I was sorry to hear of Dr. Ranney's death. 2 

What shall we do now for a doctor ? . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

Mrs. Dillon was in Rome for about three weeks, 
and the two next succeeding letters were written 
from that city. 

1 Afterward exchanged for tickets of a later date on the Bothnia. 

2 Dr. Ranney the elder, who attended the son John in his serious 
illness in 1881. (See Chapter V, p. 221.) 

285 



Hnna price Btllon 

To John F. Dillon 

Rome, March 13, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote you Sunday from Naples. Monday morning 
I went to the bank, and found your letter of Saturday 
evening, February 17, written just before you started 
for Kansas City. ... I left Naples yesterday at two 
thirty-five. Arrived here at nine o'clock, and went 
to the Continental. This morning, as soon as I had my 
coffee and roll, I started to find accommodations for 
the next week or ten days. At the Quirinal I could 
get rooms on the fifth floor, with an elevator that will 
take people up, but they must walk down. This, of 
course, would not suit Annie, so I had to start again. 
I came down here to the Allemagne on the Via Con- 
dotti. All our Nice acquaintances are at the Quirinal, 
except a family of Philadelphians named Warden (he 
is an oilman, and a partner of our neighbors the 
Bostwicks, in New York), who are at the Bristol. . . . 

Rome is greatly changed in six years— much im- 
proved. In the new part there is hardly a suggestion 
of old Rome, with street-cars running from one end 
to the other. Just think of it— street-cars in Rome! 
To-day is very cold, but dry and clear. The city is 
full to overflowing. Everybody seems to be here, 
and when we were in Nice everybody seemed to be 
there. It is just as Judge Usher said to us: "There 
are too many people in the world." Annie seems 

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pleased to be here, and walked two or three blocks 
this afternoon, attracted by the pictures and mosaics 
exposed for sale. 

Ever affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Rome, March 19, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letter of March 4 reached me to-day. It is 
just a week since I wrote my No. 36. 

I find myself more than ever interested in this old 
city. When here before I was so anxious about John's 
health that I did not see many things and places that 
others saw. 1 Now I am trying to see it all, though 
much of the time we make our plans, write them out, 
and start, but are obliged to turn back on Annie's 
account, who is very feeble, but very energetic. She 
has been to St. Peter's, the Pantheon, the Colosseum, 
and several of the churches. She is intensely inter- 
ested in everything, and it is astonishing how much 
she endures. 

The Wardens, whom I told you about in a former let- 
ter, are here. They have fifteen children, and the 
mother does not look much older than her daughters. 
They took an elegant villa in Nice for the winter, 
but came down for a month or two to see Rome and 
Naples. Mr. Warden has been extremely kind to me, 
and I do not mean to forget it. 

1 For the letters of Mrs. Dillon descriptive of Rome on her previous 
visit, see Chapter III, pp. 144-153. 

287 



Hnna price Dillon 



To-morrow Susie and I will join a party with a 
guide, to go to the Palatine Hill and the palace of the 
Csesars. Annie can't go, because I cannot get any 
one to carry her. Next Friday she is to be carried 
by two men through the Vatican and Raphael's Log- 
gia. Some day soon we are to drive on the Appian 
Way. Annie, poor girl, has to suffer all the time, and 
give up much that would delight her. May Darling i 
arrived Saturday night, and two happier girls you 
rarely see. ... I shall go to Florence next week to 
stay two or three weeks. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

Mrs. Dillon and her children spent three pleasant 
weeks in Florence, as will be seen by the letters which 
follow, written from that place. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Florence, April 1, 1883. 
My dear Friend : 

When I last wrote you I was in Sorrento. I left 
there soon after for Rome, where we remained 
till yesterday. We spent Easter there, and had, tak- 
ing it all round, a delightful time. We went often 
to St. Peter's, and Easter Sunday I spent most of 
the day there, and heard the choir of magnificent 
voices, some of which seemed more than human. I 
thought of you often, and know of no one who could 

1 Afterward married to Mr. W. T. Smedley, the well-known artist. 

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/Iftemofr axib /iDemoilals 



more fully enjoy or appreciate all that pertains to 
Rome than your own dear self. There have been 
many changes in the Eternal City since I was there six 
years ago. 

I shall stop here for two or three weeks, and then 
start for Carlsbad, reaching there about the 10th of 
May, at which time the cure commences. Annie is 
no better, but seemed while in Rome to be able to 
forget her pains— at least, so far as to be able to go 
about. She saw the Colosseum and St. Peter's, as 
well as several other churches. I had her carried in 
a chair up two hundred and fifty-five steps, to see 
Raphael's pictures in the Sistine Chapel and else- 
where in the Vatican. She seemed to enjoy every- 
thing, and now that she has seen much of Rome, and 
seems no worse for it, I am glad that I made the 
effort to take her. You may think it strange to 
hear me say "effort," but you can have but little 
idea of the exertion it requires to take an invalid over 
Europe. 

I was much entertained by your last letter. It 
carried me back to my days of party-giving and party- 
going in Davenport, and, for the moment, I forgot 
Italy, Vesuvius, and the Bay of Naples, and was again 
in your midst. Come over to England, Bessie; come 
and spend the summer, and go home when I go in 
September. "We will have some good times together 
even if we do carry sorrow and care. I 'd like to 
see your baby grandson. I venture to say he is a 
darling, and clever, too, if he takes after his grand- 
289 



Buna price Dillon 



mother. I think I can see him propped up beside 
you while you write, dipping into everything, and 
toppling over everything he has no business to touch. 
Don't begin now to stuff him with a " History of the 
Popes, ' ' and make a walking library of him before he 
can toddle. Love to all your family from all mine. 
Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Florence, April 2, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Yours of March 11 arrived this morning. We came 
from Eome to this place last Saturday. We had de- 
lightful weather while there, and enjoyed our stay 
very much. Annie saw all the important churches, 
took a drive on the Appian Way, and went to two or 
three of the villas and palaces the day before we left. 
She went in the Vatican and saw Raphael's pictures. 
She seemed to enjoy them all very much, and set her 
heart on buying a picture copied from an original 
Raphael. Pictures are extremely cheap in Florence. 
I think I shall buy one or two to take home. 

I went this morning to see the Duomo. It is about 
to be closed to visitors, for repairs. Giotto's Campanile 
still stands, and the Baptistery, with the Ghiberti 
doors, is surrounded with as many sight-seers as 
when you and I saw it. The old Palazzo Vecchio is as 
grim and forbidding as ever, and Loggia dei Lanzi is 
290 



flDemoir anb flDemorials 



unchanged. Beggars still frequent its steps, and, for 
aught I know, the same peasant woman was taking 
water from the fountain whom we saw when we vis- 
ited the piazza together in 1875. 

I shall stay here until about the 16th, and then go 
for a day to Milan, thence to Venice, from Venice to 
Munich, and plan my stay at each place so as to reach 
Carlsbad about the 10th of May. The girls send you 
their best love. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

On the same day on which the last was written to 
her husband, a letter was written by him to Mrs. Dil- 
lon, which, as it may be of interest to those for whom 
these pages are mainly intended, is given in the note. 1 

i " 195 Broadway, New York, April 2, 1883. 
"My dear Wife: 

" I wrote you a long letter yesterday. I have, of course, not much more 
to say so soon afterward. I have made and inclose a memorandum 
which I think you ought to have in case of my death either on land or 
ocean before I see you. It shows my property and where it is and all 
of it, so that you would not be uncertain about it. It is not a 
very large amount as the result of a vast deal of hard work and a life 
of much self-denial on the part of both of us ; but if carefully hus- 
banded, it would serve to keep the wolf away from the door. I hope 
that I may long be spared to you and the children, but death comes in 
so many forms, and so unexpectedly, that it is prudent at my age — it is 
a duty — to be prepared. 

" While I am on this subject let me write you a little love-letter. Are 
you too old ? Am I too old ? Well, we have lived together more than 
a quarter of a century. The days of illusions are past. You have 
been a true, faithful, and devoted wife. Nothing has ever escaped your 
vigilant eye that could promote my welfare or your children's, and 
whatever you saw needful to be done you have always had the 
energy and the unconquerable will to do it. I have never seen a 
woman who, all things considered, I thought had your ability and in- 
tellectual force — such a wide range of gifts. This is my estimate after, 

291 



Hnna price S>illon 



To Johx F. Dillon 

Florence, April 19, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letters reached me last Monday. 

I am counting the hours until you come. You 
must telegraph me the minute you touch terra 
firma, fori shall have ten anxious days after you 
sail. If my expenses were not so great I would 
meet you in Paris, but there is no use spending 
money for that when I am going to the same place 
again. 

Yesterday Annie received your letter inclosing 

as I have said, the illusions which may deceive in our youth are over 
and gone. 

"I shall not mention my many shortcomings. If I had my life to 
live over I would doubtless do many things differently and omit many 
things that I have done. But my shortcomings have not been inten- 
tional : they have been inadvertent, and, in some degree, have come in 
the years gone by from the ever-present and ever-imperious limitations 
of the sharp necessity of a hand-to-hand struggle with the world for 
bread, and to better my condition and yours and our children's. I will 
not longer pursue this subject ; but it seemed to me that you would not 
be displeased to have me say what I have said, and I felt that it would, 
at all events, give me pleasure to say it. 

" I fear we are too apt to assume all this, and not enough inclined to 
say it. Such is my natural disposition. I am too much inclined to leave 
to be implied what it is better often to express ; I have so often felt the 
necessity, or at least the gratefulness, of an actual expression of appre- 
ciation that I am the more to blame for a fault of this kind. 

" I have just received a long letter from Colonel Gantt inquiring about 
you and Annie, and saying Mrs. Gantt is very anxious about you, and 
also much engrossed with her sister's care. Please preserve the in- 
closed memorandum, though I sincerely hope you will not have any 
early occasion to use it, and that I shall see you and travel with you 
many years yet down the hill of life, or rather, let us fancy, up the hill. 
"Affectionately yours, 

"John F. Dillon." 

292 



/Memoir arib /IDemortals 



Gyp's proof; 1 also a letter from Mrs. Hogan. 
Poor child, she enjoyed them very much. She has 
been in bed a week, not able to be up, and is still 
quite weak. If she can be gotten to the depot, I shall 
start for Venice on Saturday, the 21st, the same day 
you expect to go to Jefferson City. In Venice she can 
float about in a gondola and get air and sunshine, 
while here the jolting over the streets prevents her 
going out when she does feel better. I shall stay 
there three or four days, and thence to Milan for a 
day; then to Munich direct, breaking the journey at 
Innsbruck. At Munich we shall stay three or four 
days, then break the journey from there to Carls- 
bad by stopping over at Nuremberg, 



1 The letter from her father here referred to is the first of those 
given below. The daughter's friend, Mrs. Hogan, had procured for 
her a fine pet dog, Gyp by name, a most affectionate pug, which, on 
starting for Europe, she reluctantly left behind in Mrs. Hogan's charge. 
To please Annie, Mrs. Hogan had Gyp photographed, as related in the 
father's subjoined letters, written to his daughter at Florence : 

" 195 Broadway, New York, April 5, 1883. 
"My dear Annie : 

"Do you know the beautiful creature whose picture I inclose? See 
how sleek and fat she is, how proud and smart she looks. She is as fe- 
rocious as a bull-dog in seeming, but is in fact gentle as a kitten. Observe 
her black silken, or, in Landor's phrase, ' flaccid ' * ears, expanded to 
show them off" to the best advantage. Do you see the streamer on her 
neck? It is black in the picture, but it is the beautiful ' swell ' orange 
ribbon you bought for her before you left, so Mrs. Hogan says. I took 
dinner with her on Tuesday night, and she told me she had been to 
Pach, the photographer, that day and had Gyp sit four times, and that I 
would find the proofs when I got home. I found several proofs. I 
cut one of them off,— the one now sent you, — and thought I would for- 
ward you an advance copy of the great work, one that you would rather 

* — the crocodile 
Crying oft made them raise their flaccid ears 
And push their heads within their master's hand. 

Walter Savage Landor, "Gebir." 

293 



Hnna price HHllon 



How my money goes ! Still, Johnnie, I had to buy 
a few pictures. I knew if you were here you would 
do it yourself. I inclose bill from Pisani for three 
pictures. One is an original by Vezzani. At another 
place I bought an original by Gavini ; also two other 
small pictures on gold ground. Last night, at the last 
moment, I bought a copy of Murillo's "Marriage of 
St. Catharine "—it is beautifully framed, and is four 
feet long— and a "Roman Girl." I know you will 
like them, and so I have gotten what will be a life- 
long pleasure to us all. The ' ' Roman Girl " is an origi- 

have than a 'Venus de Milo,' a 'Madonna,' or any of the famous 
pictures in the Tribune room. As soon as the pictures are finished I 
shall mail you some copies. I hope that they will give you pleasure, for I 
requested Mrs. Hogan and George to have them taken at my expense, 
believing that I could send you nothing more acceptable— not even 
money ! I trust the proof will not fade en route. 

" Tell your mother that I received her letter, No. 37, yesterday, dated 
Rome, March 19, telling me, among other things, that your dear friend 
May Darling was there, and that two happier girls it would be impos- 
sible to find. I am glad that you have some happy days, although you 
have to snatch your joy from so much physical suffering. I send my 

love to all. 

"Affectionately, your father, 

"John F. Dillon." 

" 671 Madison Avenue, New York, April 17, 1883. 
" My dear Annie : 

"... The nurse and Mrs. Hogan were here Sunday with Gyp. The 
most surprising thing of all was Gyp. She was crazy with delight. She 
knew the house, and fairly foamed over with joy at seeing me, and by her 
actions and cries told me soinlanguage asunmistakable as human words. 
She ran round and round the parlor with all her might, pulling up the 
rugs and hiding under the sofa just as she used to do when you were 
here. When she got tired of this she went out into the hall and up the 
stairs, and I really believe she missed you and was looking for you. 
After all, the picture does not do her justice. The nurse said she could 
not get Gyp to curl her tail when she sat for it. I have one of the pic- 
tures here. I shall keep it unless you send for it. 

"Affectionately, your father, 

"J. P. D." 

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/iDemoir an& /IDemorials 



nal by the celebrated Mazzotti. There have been 
sent from here some dining-chairs, a wood-box, two 
hall-chairs, and an old-fashioned fire-bellows. . . . 

The unveiling of the bust of Raphael did not make 
near the stir in Eome that it did elsewhere. Arrange- 
ments had been made for a procession, but a beating 
rain interfered with the demonstration. To be sure, 
the Pantheon was crowded with dirty, greasy Italians, 
who prevented many people getting in; I, therefore, 
passed most of that day in Raphael's Loggia. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

The sojourn in Venice, next described, was in some 
respects pleasant, and in others disappointing. 

To John F. Dillon 

Venice, April 24, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your No. 32, of April 8, reached me yesterday. You 
will see by the heading of my letter that the attrac- 
tions of the "Queen of the Adriatic" succeeded in 
winning us away from Florence, where we were so 
happy and so pleasantly located, only to disappoint 
and freeze us. We arrived on Saturday evening; the 
next day it began to rain, and is still raining. Susie 
had letters from some friends of hers who are here, 
and they gave such glowing accounts of Venice, its 
soft airs and sunny skies, of floating about in gondolas 
over sparkling waters, to the notes of the most en- 
29.5 



Bnna price Billon 



chanting music, that Annie thought it was just the 
place for her to spend all her time before starting for 
Carlsbad, and that she could live out in the air and 
sunshine, without being jolted to death over paved 
streets ; so we packed and came, and, as I tell you, it 
began to rain, and still rains. . . . 

Annie went out but three times while in Florence, 
and was crazy over pictures and marbles. The place 
is full of them. I withstood all entreaties to buy 
marbles, but, as you have already learned, was per- 
suaded into buying some pictures. I have already 
told you of buying from Pisani, in Eome, three interior 
views : one an original by Vezzani, ' ' Nuns Waiting 
for the Superior " in a room of a convent ; ' ' The Fisher- 
man' s Daughter," after Meyer von Bremen ; "A Little 
Boy of whom the Schoolmaster is Giving a Bad Report 
to his Mother." From another place I bought an 
original by Gavini. It represents a trio of drunken 
soldiers card-playing. It is beautiful in execution and 
coloring, and true to Italian life in all respects. In the 
same box are two Italian figures, a little alabaster 
Venus, a brass Roman lamp, and a little picture, 
framed, of Guido's "Hope " ; also two copies of Angel- 
ica's "Angels," framed. Now I believe I have con- 
fessed all. 

I managed, notwithstanding all my anxieties, to see 
a great deal of Florence. I used to take my book 
and go to sit in the old Church of St. Marie Novella; 
then, again, in St. Croce. Here I read Ruskin's criti- 
cisms on Giotto's frescos, climbed around among the 
296 



/iDemoir anfc /I&emorials 



old crypts, and looked up the world of pictures that 
the old masters have left to puzzle and entertain us. 
I rode once to Piazza Michelangelo, visited several 
times the Ponte Vecchio, examined the old coat of 
arms that Ruskin raves over, visited the Uffizi and 
Pitti Palaces, and, in fact, did all that it was possible 
to do with a mind as ill at rest as mine always is. 

Here in this city I have done but little, on account 
of the rain. However, I went to the Academy of Fine 
Arts, saw the wonderful "Assumption " of Titian, and 
looked about for the "Marriage of St. Catharine," by 
Paul Veronese, but did not find it. They told me it 
had been sent to some church. I remember very well 
when you and I were there together, and as I went 
this time all alone, I was more than lonesome without 
you. I have been but once to St. Mark's. To-morrow 
is the fete in honor of that saint, and I shall go to hear 
the music. . . . The Goddards are in the same house 
with us— Pension Suisse. I shall leave here for Milan 
next Saturday, spend Sunday and Monday there, 
then go, via the St. Gothard Pass, to Zurich, then to 
Munich for a week, thence to Nuremberg for a day 
or two, and then to Carlsbad, where I hope to arrive 
the 10th prox. . . . 

I had a very pleasant letter a day or two ago from 
Mrs. Gantt. I had gotten tired waiting to hear from 
her, and wrote again on Easter Sunday. ... I am 
going now to visit again Santa Maria della Salute. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

2£7 



Hnna price Dillon 



A short break at Milan, in the journey to Carlsbad, 
is briefly related in the following letter. 



To John F. Dillon 

Milan, April 30, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

We arrived here yesterday at 4 : 30 p. m. , having left 
Venice at eight in the morning. No doubt you will 
think it strange that we should take such a trip on 
Sunday, but it came in this way. I was ready to 
leave Venice two days before, and felt that I must do 
so in order to reach Carlsbad by the 10th; but as 
Annie had been sick nearly all of our stay, and had 
not seen St. Mark's or the pigeons, she declared she 
would not go without seeing them. So, summoning all 
the strength she could muster, she got up and dressed, 
and I stayed from Friday until yesterday to give her 
an opportunity to do what we had done when we first 
arrived. She fed the pigeons, and seemed to enjoy 
their familiarity very much. The bronze horses and 
the winged lion were old acquaintances, as she had 
so often read of them. She enjoyed the gondola-riding, 
and took to it as naturally as if born and brought up 
in Venice. 

St. Mark's looks more dingy than ever. It smells, 
and the floor is sunken. What with the dampness, 
greasy Italians, and incense, it is worse than the fish 
market at West and Dey streets, New York. I paid 

298 



flDemoir an& /l&emorfals 



one visit to the old church, which is blackening with 
age and moisture, went once to the Academy of Fine 
Arts, and then was taken ill, and that finished my 
sight-seeing. The Goddards tried to persuade me to 
go with them to Vienna, but as you have never been 
there, and have seen Milan and Lake Como, I con- 
cluded to bring the children this way, and leave all 
places where you have not been until you come. To- 
morrow morning we start for Lucerne. The route lies 
through Como, and as it is only an hour or two to 
Bellaggio by steamer from Como, I have determined to 
go there for the rest of the day and one night. Wednes- 
day morning we shall return to Como, and thence 
direct to Lucerne. Next morning we shall see Lu- 
cerne's Lion, and go on to Zurich, and be prepared to 
leave there on Friday for Munich. 

Yesterday our journey from Venice here was de- 
lightful. Vegetation is about as far advanced as with 
us a month hence. The day was perfect in every re- 
spect, and as we dashed through the green meadows 
and groves of mulberry- trees, and crossed the Adige, 
I recalled our trip over the same route (though in an 
opposite direction) nearly eight years ago. This 
morning we all (Annie included) went to see the 
cathedral. They seem, in many places, to be putting 
in new stones where the old ones have crumbled. 
Aside from that, there is no change since we saw it 
together. We went to the Brera, but as Annie did 
not feel equal to the stairs, no one went up. To tell 
the truth, we are all tired out, and I am looking 
299 



Hnna price 2>illon 



forward to Carlsbad as a place of rest. The girls send 
love, and I remain ever, 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

In the letters which follow Mrs. Dillon describes her 
trip to Carlsbad, and her stay at that place and others 
until the arrival of her husband, whom, she met at Ber- 
lin, in July, 1883, 

To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, May 9, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

We have just arrived; came through from Munich 
in eight and a half hours, and, though tired out and 
half sick, I sit down to inform you of our whereabouts. 

We stopped one day in Milan, went next morn- 
ing to Bellaggio and to Como, where we stopped all 
night, and there took the train next morning over the 
St. Gothard Eailroad to Lucerne. I send you a map 
and a pamphlet describing our route. It is the most 
beautiful ride in the world. We reached Lucerne at 
4 p. m., and went to the Switzerhof, and that night 
Annie almost died. I had to have a doctor stay with 
her all night. She recovered at four o'clock, and slept 
till daylight. She was only able to ride out to see 
the Lion, and as she could do no more sight-seeing, 
we left in the afternoon for Zurich, where we stayed 
overnight. Early next morning we left for Munich, 
and arrived at seven o'clock. We went to the Four 
Seasons, and rested one day. The only " going " we 
300 



/IDemott ant) flDemorials 



did was to drive out to see " Bavaria." I had just 
time enough to look upon the Murillo ' ' Beggars ' ' and 
GuidoKeni's "Assumption," but felt repaid for climb- 
ing the stairs in seeing these alone. 

I am in Carlsbad, at the Humboldt House; have 
rooms on entrance-floor because Annie can't get up- 
stairs. We have to go out to meals, which is a great 
discomfort; but it is what everybody does, and I 
must do the same. . . . Annie is drinking the water 
according to directions, and may be benefited. This 
morning she received the two photos of Gyp, and 
they gave her great pleasure. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, May 10, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

In my last I told you that I had not heard from 
you since your letter of the 8th of April. This morning 
there was a mass of letters of dates 14th, 15th, 16th, 
and 20th, a letter from Colonel Gantt, and much other 
news that was very acceptable to me. A letter came 
to John from you ; also one to Susie. We had also a 
number of newspapers, and the program of the con- 
cert for the benefit of the Woman's Exchange; also a 
copy of the " Judge," giving your admonitory coun- 
sel to several New York millionaires. We had quite 
a feast of New York news, and I feel very much as if 
I had seen and talked with you. It will not be very 
long now until I shall see you, God willing, and then 

301 



Hnna price Mllon 



I can tell you so much that I have not been able to 
write. ... In a letter I received from Mary Smith 
to-day, she tells me of Mrs. Wing's sorrow. Little 
Alice, who has been on crutches nearly or quite a 
year, has had an operation performed. Poor child ! 
and poor mother, too ! What a heavy heart she car- 
ries! The G-oddards arrived to-day from Vienna. 
They report a very pleasant trip and stay there, but 
rather an unpleasant experience at the custom-house 
at Trieste. . . . 

This letter will probably not reach you for quite 
three weeks. It will then be nearly time for you to 
sail. ... I wrote you about reaching Germany via 
London and Rotterdam. What do you think of it? I 
shall not write you after the middle of June, as letters 
cannot reach you ; but when you arrive you will find 
a letter at the Northwestern, in Liverpool, and one at 
the Bath Hotel, in London. Did I tell you that 
little Margery Ware is lying low with typhoid fever 
in Sorrento ? Her mother wrote me a sad letter, 
which I answered immediately, and asked her to let 
me know from time to time how Margery is. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, Sunday, May 13, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Since arriving here last Tuesday evening, I have 
written and mailed you my Nos. 44 and 45, but this 
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/SDentott anfc /Memorials 



morning your letter from Jefferson City reached me, 
not quite three weeks en route. 

The doctor says Annie must quit taking the Carls- 
bad waters for some time, as she is too delicate to 
digest them. John is in bed since yesterday with a 
violent headache and pain in his chest. Young Aus- 
tin Corbin, who has been with us for three months, 
left us to-day for Paris. He expects to be in New 
York almost as soon as this letter, and will call and 
tell you all about us. He is a nice boy, and has been 
as kind as a son to me. He is on his way to Montana 
to open a cattle-ranch. When he calls, make it a point 
to say to him that I appreciated all his kindness and 
consideration. 

Carlsbad is already nearly full of the lame, halt, 
and blind who come to take the cure. Everything 
is expensive. 

You will find on your arrival a letter from me 
at the Northwestern, Liverpool, and one at Bath 
Hotel, London, telling you where to find us. You 
must telegraph me the instant you arrive at Queens- 
town, and from time to time on your journey. If 
I am not here I shall be in Nuremberg or Dresden. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 
To Mrs. Silsbee 

Carlsbad, May 16, 1883. 
My dear Mrs. Silsbee : 

For several days it has been ever present with me 
to write in answer to your welcome letter, which 
303 



Hnna price Dillon 



reached me at Eome in the latter days of March. I 
left Nice in February, and went to Naples and Sor- 
rento in the vain hope that Annie would derive from 
the climate of the far South the benefit which neither 
the doctors nor the climate of Nice had been able to 
give her. But Italy proved ' ' a delusion and a snare. ' ' 
The winds blew there as they do any and every 
where else; the snow came in storms— indeed, Ve- 
suvius was most of the time clad in white; and 
the far-famed bay, which is usually so "blue" 
and beautiful, was as rough and angry as was ever 
the hoary old Atlantic. Early in March I left Sor- 
rento and went up to Eome— was there during Easter. 
I have yet four months in Europe. My husband, 
poor man, has had a lonely year. He is now making 
arrangements to join me in July. He says, in a letter 
received to-day, that the days drag more slowly than 
ever since he has made up his mind to come to 
Europe. How glad I shall be to see him can only be 
imagined by a woman who has been away from a 
good husband for a year. 

Do you ever hear from Davenport? I had a long 
and interesting letter from Mrs. McCullough, and 
one from Mrs. Mary Smith, last week. I still re- 
tain my fondness for the dear old place and the dear 
old friends. Certainly I have found nothing like 
them anywhere. I shall stay in this place until about 
the last week in May, then go to Dresden for a month 
or perhaps all the time till my husband comes. I 
sent you a photo of myself from Eome. Did it reach 
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/l&emoir an£> jflDemorials 



you ? And what do you think of it ? Don't I look a 
little too much like a Sorosis member to suit you ? . . . 
I feel happy in the thought that you remember and 
pray for your anxious and worried friend. The good 
Father will spare us to meet and talk over our trials 
and our joys. I feel more than ever drawn to the 
great Griver of all good, and " Though He slay, yet will 
I trust Him. ' ' Certainly my anxieties for the past two 
years would either bring me closer or drive me farther 
from the One that doth not willingly afflict the chil- 
dren of men. I am beginning to show in my looks my 
constant worry, for I am worn and growing very 
gray. Won't we have a gay time arranging our gray 
locks, and trying to look well, when we meet again ? 
Don't you remember the good times we had at Leaf- 
land ? How I wish I could be there again and as happy 
as when you used to visit me ! Write me when you 
can. 

Very affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, May 17, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

This is Thursday evening. I have to-day your let- 
ter of Sunday, April 29, written while Frank Goode- 
now was visiting you. It came in a wonderfully 
short time— only three days over two weeks. . . . 

So, you see, my coming to Carlsbad was all for 
naught. Annie is too feeble to take the waters. Dr. 
305 



Hnna price Billon 



Kraus says I must not while in this anxious state of 
mind, and that John cannot now do anything but get 
rid of the rheumatism, which has kept him in bed for 
nearly a week. His feet are both swollen frightfully, 
and his pain is almost unendurable. . . . 

Upon thinking over the house affairs, I have decided 
to have the carpets taken up. As soon as you leave 
the house give orders to have it done in the manner 
following. . . . Enough for the present. Will write 
again soon. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, Saturday evening, May 26, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

Your letter of Sunday, May 13, has just been sent 
me from the bank; also the " Tribune " of same date. 
Just think of it— only thirteen days since they left 
your hand ! This is the shortest time yet. I wonder 
if you will be able to come through as quickly. I sup- 
pose not ; for these certainly came by the fast steamer 
Alaska, and you are to come by the sure, slow, and 
uncomfortable Cunarder. . . . 

Nearly everybody who knows anything of John's 
illness has been very kind. Drexel, the banker (who 
is here for his health), has sent me word repeatedly to 
call upon him for any service. But in all such cases 
the burden falls upon the mother. As I told you, I 
could not get a trained nurse, so I ' ve lifted and shifted 
306 



/Ifcemoir an& jfiDemorials 



John until I have what I never had before— an aching 
back, and all that is consequent upon it. I intended 
to study German while here, and get some benefit 
from being among Germans; but it is otherwise 
ordered, and I must be content. . . . The Kemps will 
reach here before I leave, unless John recovers faster 
than I dare hope. This place has from eight to sixteen 
thousand visitors every summer. Some wonderful 
cures are made every year. I shall never cease to 
regret not being able to take the waters, as I feel sure 
my crippled joints and miserable stomach would have 
been the better for them. So Wisey's bird is dead! 
Poor little thing ! It was all the society she had when 
Will was at school. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, May 30, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

I wrote last Saturday evening. Next morning I 
received a letter from you inclosing letters to the 
children and checks for us all. Annie sat down 
immediately to write, but I 've had no time until 
now to say a word. We have been up every night 
with John, and are tired out. He is better to-day, 
and says he feels no rheumatism, excepting in his left 
shoulder. If he has no relapse and continues to 
improve, we shall leave in ten days for Dresden. 
There is nothing to be made by staying here. None 
307 



Buna price Billon 



of us but Susie can take the waters. In addition to 
this, it rains nearly all the time. . . 

I wish you would have awnings put up just as al- 
ways, for if we get home it will be in the heat, 
and I want to be as comfortable as possible. I don't 
know whether this letter will reach you before you 
go West ; if not, you will get it when you return. 
Affectionately, 

A. P. Dillon. 

In the next letter Mrs. Dillon tells briefly of a visit 
made to Vienna, which was partly undertaken that 
she might again see her old friends the Hirschls, who 
originally came from that city, and had returned 
thither to live, after having resided in Davenport for 
many years. The letter was addressed to her hus- 
band in care of the steamer at Liverpool. 

To John F. Dillon 

Vienna, July 1, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

. . . This letter no doubt will give you a double 
surprise— the first, that it will reach you while yet on 
shipboard, and the second, that I should be here in 
Vienna after your suggestion that I should wait until 
you came. Your letter reached me after I was all 
ready to leave Dresden and had given up my rooms 
at the hotel. 

The Hirschls were delighted to see us. They were 
not at home when we arrived, but our card was for- 
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flDemoir an& ZlDemorials 



warded to them at their summer place. They came 
in, opened their city house, and invited us to tea. 
And such a tea ! I assure you, I have had nothing so 
good and homelike since I left Davenport. The old 
lady's eyes danced with pleasure. She talked longer, 
louder, and better than ever, and says that after see- 
ing us there is only one thing necessary to complete 
her happiness, and that is to see you. You must 
make a trip here. 

Vienna is a most attractive and beautiful city, 
and well worthy to be the rival of Paris. Its gar- 
dens are picturesque, its streets broad and artistically 
laid out; its buildings, particularly the new Eathaus, 
excel in beauty anything I have seen in Europe. 

To-day is Sunday, July 1, and Annie's birthday. 
You are doubtless busy packing, to leave on Wednes- 
day. You mention my meeting you in Cologne. I 'd 
like to do it, Johnnie, and I may, though I cannot 
say now for sure. You will want to rest a day in 
London before going to Cologne. If you telegraph me 
directly you arrive in Liverpool, I will send a despatch 
to the Hotel du Nord, so be sure to inquire for it or 
me immediately on arrival. The children want me 
to go to Berlin and stay there a few days to await 
you; and I shall do so. They send love. 
Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

After leaving Vienna, Mrs. Dillon returned to Dres- 
den, whence the next letter was written. Shortly 
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after the date of this letter, accompanied by her 
children, she met her husband in Berlin. 

To John F. Dillon 

Weber's Hotel, Dresden, July 10, 1883. 
Dear Johnnie : 

. . . This letter will find you, I trust, in London, so 
far on your journey to Germany. I will meet you 
in Berlin, not in Cologne, as the trip is too long. 
John has just come in, and has brought me your letter 
from St. Louis. He is looking forward with pleasure 
to seeing Hugh Reid. It is dreary for him, and I don't 
know what he would do without his violin. Tele- 
graph me where to meet you. We are looking forward 
anxiously to your safe arrival. As I write I fancy I 
can see the Bothnia sailing Europeward with its pre- 
cious freightage, and I can scarcely wait for ten days 
more to pass. The children send love, and I am, 
Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The home-coming voyage was on the Bothnia ; and 
it was made especially pleasant by the companionship 
of Andrew Carnegie (who was well known in Daven- 
port) and of his aged mother. Mrs. Dillon always 
associated with this trip her recollection of the son's 
numberless tender manifestations of his love for his 
mother. Whenever in after life she mentioned Mr. 
Carnegie, his mother's image was always present. 
310 



/IDemoir an& /iDemorfals 



The following letters were written by Mrs. Dillon 
in 1883, after her return to New York, September 18. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 
671 Madison Avenue, New York, 



October 14, 1883. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter reached me several days ago, and would 
have been answered at once, if possible. I came home 
nearly a month ago, and ever since my house has 
been full of visitors. 

I am very sorry to hear of your sad bereavement, 
but cannot grieve for you as I should were you not 
sure that your loss is your dear father's gain. No 
doubt he was only ' ' waiting for the summons ' ' and 
has entered into rest. I wrote you a long letter from 
Carlsbad, and a few days afterward had a letter from 
you saying that you had removed to Cameron, Mis- 
souri. Can you not come and make me a visit before 
you go home? I should be so glad to see you. 

Annie, I regret to say, is no better, though she still 
has good courage and hopes to be finally fully restored. 
Do write and say that you will make me a visit before 
going back. If you do not, I do not know when I shall 
see you, for I 've had such an amount of travel in the 
past year that I do not wish to think of a train or a 
steamer. I am, 

Affectionately your friend, 

A. P. D. 

311 



Hnna price Billon 



To Mrs. McCullough 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 

October 14, 1883. 
My dear Friend : 

... I have been home nearly a month, having ar- 
rived from Europe on the 18th ult. Since then I have 
had my two nieces, Louise and Mary Collier, who have 
just come from Germany, my mother, Susie Price, 
my son Hiram and family, all with me, so you can 
readily imagine I have had no time to idle. My mother 
has grown very feeble since I left her, and leans very 
much on those around her for support. . . . 

A. P. D. 

The foregoing chapter concludes the narrative, as 
Mrs. Dillon has left it, of her second sojourn in Europe. 
The next six years, 1883-89, were spent in her own 
country. The extant letters of biographical interest 
during this period are given in the next chapter. 




312 



CHAPTER VIII 



LIFE IN NEW YORK 



1883-89 



Los Angeles visited for daughter's health — Sojourn there in the sum- 
mer of 1884 — Summer at Seabright, New Jersey, in 1885 — Saratoga, 
1886 and 1887— Christmas, 1887, visit to Topeka— 1888, Death of Mrs. 
McCullough — Summer at Saratoga — 1889 (January and February), 
Topeka again visited —Trip to Santa Fe Ramona Indian School — 1889, 
Europe visited by husband and daughters — Summer, 1889, family at 
Saratoga. 



LETTERS TO MRS. McCULLOUGH, JOHN M. DILLON, MRS. 
BILLS, MRS. MARY PRICE, MRS. MARY REED SMITH, 
MRS. SILSBEE, JOHN F. DILLON, JOHN F. DILLON II, 
MRS. ANNA GRAHAM LORD, AND MISS ANNIE DILLON 




HE last chapter closes with letters written in 
October, 1883. The winter of 1883-84 was 
spent by the family at 671 Madison Avenue. 
In June, 1884, the family, with the exception of the 
son Hiram, went, mainly for the benefit of the daugh- 
ter Annie's health, to Los Angeles, California. A 
short stop was made at Davenport, to enable Mrs. 
Dillon to visit her old-time friends. At Omaha they 
313 



Hnna price Dillon 



were joined by the eldest son, and proceeded to Den- 
ver, where they remained for a day to see Mrs. Dillon's 
mother, who was sojourning there for her health. 
The two sons returned from Denver to Topeka. The 
rest of the party proceeding to San Francisco, a short 
but pleasant visit was made to Mrs. Rosalie Kauf- 
man, and then they went direct to Los Angeles, and 
rented a furnished house for the season. The sojourn 
was delightful. After visiting the Pasadena Valley, 
far famed for its beauty, the family took their car 
and went to Santa Monica for a sight of the Pacific. 
As this was their first view of that ocean, as a matter 
of sentiment they all bathed in its waters, and the 
incident was diversified by the sudden appearance 
in the midst of the bathers of a large black alba- 
tross, six feet between wing-tips, which had sickened, 
had been left behind by its companions, and at length 
had fallen, weary and exhausted, to rise no more. 

These excursions being ended, and the family set- 
tled at Los Angeles for the summer, the husband 
returned early in July to New York. During their 
stay Hiram and his family and the son John went 
to Los Angeles, where the entire family remained 
until September, when they started home, bringing 
Mrs. Kaufman with them as a guest. They visited 
Topeka, and thence, after a short stay at Davenport, 
came direct to New York. The family resided at 671 
Madison Avenue during the winter of 1884-85, and 
spent the summer of 1885 at the seaside, Seabright, 
New Jersey, occupying the Turner Cottage. 
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/Iftemoir anb /iDemorials 



On November 11, 1884, Mrs. Price died in Washing- 
ton, D. C, and Mrs. Dillon, who was with her in her 
last illness, accompanied her mother's remains to 
Davenport, where she was buried in the family ceme- 
tery at Oakdale. 

The winter of 1885-86 was spent at the family home 
in New York, and the summer of 1886 at the United 
States Hotel in Saratoga. On March 12, 1886, Mrs. 
Dillon was unanimously elected president of the La- 
dies' Hahnemann Hospital, New York. During the 
winter of 1886-87 the family resided at their house 
in New York, in the summer of 1887 at their cot- 
tage, 704 North Broadway, Saratoga, then recently 
purchased, and during the winter of 1887-88 at their 
home in New York. Christmas, 1887, Mrs. Dillon 
visited her son Hiram and his family at Topeka. 
En route thither Mrs. Dillon made a visit to her 
Davenport friends, staying most of the time with Mrs. 
McCullough, who died in Davenport early in the 
spring of 1888. The summer of 1888 was also spent 
at the Saratoga cottage, the daughter Susie, however, 
being absent in Europe, traveling with her friend 
Mrs. McPherson of New Jersey. 

In January, 1889, Mrs. Dillon again visited her son 
in Topeka, remaining West for about three months. 
In March, with her son and his family, she went to 
New Mexico, first stopping at Las Vegas, where she 
was joined by Susie Price (then recently married) 
and her husband, Mr. Theodore W. Sterling. After a 
week's stay at Las Vegas Hot Springs, she visited 
315 



Buna price Billon 



Santa Fe, which was the primary object of the trip. 
Some time previously she had subscribed a consider- 
able sum to the Eamona Indian School, located near 
that city, and, feeling a deep interest therein, ear- 
nestly desired to see it. After a visit to the school, 
and a quite thorough examination of its practical 
workings, she was satisfied that the money donated 
had been wisely expended. After about a fortnight 
in New Mexico, she returned to Topeka, where she 
was joined by her husband. Shortly afterward they 
started for New York, going by way of her early 
home at Hollidaysburg, as previously related, reach- 
ing New York about April l. 1 This winter always 
remained a happy memory, and she frequently re- 
verted to it, and to the many pleasant acquaintances 
she had made, especially in Topeka. 

Almost immediately after reaching New York, she 
went to Old Point Comfort, on what proved to be 
an uncomfortable trip, for the balance of the month 
of April. The summer of this year was spent at the 
cottage in Saratoga, where she was joined by her son 
Hiram and his family. 

On July 17, 1889, her husband and daughters started 
for Carlsbad, sailing on the German steamer Saale. 
They returned on the Aurania, reaching New York 
about October 15, 1889. Mrs. Dillon remained in Sara- 
toga, and during the fall made an excursion with her 
niece, Susie Price Sterling, to Dublin, New Hamp- 
shire. In February, 1890, she was able, though not 

1 See Chapter I, pp. 8-10. 

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/IDemoir an& /IDemorials 



in good health, to attend in New York the Centennial 
Celebration of the United States Supreme Court, and 
to be present at a luncheon given by Mrs. Cleveland 
at her home, 816 Madison Avenue, in honor of the 
wife of Chief- Justice Fuller. 

The letters contained in this chapter give a pic- 
ture, though by no means complete, of Mrs. Dillon's 
life during these years. " The art of art, the glory 
of expression, and the sunshine of the light of let- 
ters," says Whitman, " is simplicity." True; and the 
letters which follow, relating wholly to domestic and 
personal concerns, and of no consequence whatever to 
the world at large, have all the charm of spontaneity, 
of informality, of entire unreserve, and of unstudied 
and natural simplicity. But to Mrs. Dillon's family 
and friends the real value of these letters consists in 
the fact that she wrote them, that they are part of 
her life, and relate to current matters which were of 
interest to her and to the persons to whom they were 
written. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
Sunday evening, January 31, 1884. 
My dear Friend : 

Do you think, as I have so long been silent, that I 

am indifferent to the kindly feeling evinced in the 

sending of the beautiful card at Christmas? I assure 

you, it gave me great pleasure to know that you 

3i7 



Hnna ©rice Dillon 



remembered me at such a time. Then, too, it is the 
most tasteful card I have ever seen, and the paintings 
the most exquisite. I have it among my treasures; 
and some day, after I am through with this life, with 
its sorrows and joys, my children, when looking over 
the things I have held precious, will find it, and say, 
' ' Mrs. McCullough gave that to mama, and how mama 
loved her! " 

I have been wretched all this winter, and am in bed 
most of my time. Indeed, the whole of this week I 
have been unable to see any one. Susie is in Wash- 
ington, too. I don't want her to know how miserable I 
am, for she would not enjoy her visit, and she has had 
enough to worry her in Annie's sufferings without 
worrying over me. She is the guest of Mrs. Senator 
McPherson, a lovely woman whom we first met in 
Europe. She is educated and elegant, and nothing 
can be said against her, except that her husband is a 
Democrat. [Mrs. McCullough was a Democrat.] How 
glad am I that I am not within reach of your fist at 
this moment! 

I have had two large entertainments this month, a 
luncheon and a reception, and stayed in bed all the 
time between. The children are rushing the enter- 
tainments this winter, because we were so quiet last. 
John has been miserable for two weeks. We were 
afraid he would have a return of his rheumatism, but 
he is somewhat better. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

318 



flftemoir anfc /SDemorials 



The next letters were written from Los Angeles by 
Mrs. Dillon during her sojourn in that city. Here 
she had her first and last experience with a Chinese 
cook. The first is to her son John, then about six- 
teen years of age, who remained for a time in Topeka 
with his brother. 

To John M. Dillon 

Los Angeles, July 3, 1884. 
Dear John : 

I have just returned from the post-office, where I 
received quite a torrent of your epistles— two for 
myself, two for Susie, and one for Annie. Susie has 
written you once or twice; also to Hymie. I have 
written once to you, once to Hymie, and once to Susie 
Brown. This is about all I am able to do and attend 
to my other duties. Mr. "Win Lung is quite a good 
cook, though everything he does is under my imme- 
diate supervision, and will be until I understand him 
thoroughly. We have a pleasant little house. It is clean 
and cool, and does not need much care to keep it in 
order. I have hired a good piano, and this afternoon 
the girls are practising like mad, endeavoring, if may 
be, to regain what was lost last winter through sick- 
ness and society. Mendelssohn and Chopin are being 
completely mastered. In a fortnight we are to have 
Eemenyi to gladden our hearts. I intend to hear 
him every time he plays. There is a young Spaniard 
here who gives lessons on the violin. 

What are you doing ? Have you abandoned the 
319 



Buna price Dillon 



idea of being a player ? I suppose you have, as you 
seem to be devoting yourself to photography. Apropos 
of this, let me say that I think your pictures are very 
good, particularly the white hat, which looks bor- 
rowed. Well, no matter ; ' ' you are pitty, anyhow. ' ' 
I don't like at all my daughter-in-law in the picture 
you took, and Hymie looks like a midnight assassin. 
I have sent all your letters and pictures to Susie Price. 

In the evenings after dinner, when it is not too cool 
to stay out, we wander about the garden and yard 
like lost spirits, without anything to amuse or enter- 
tain but hosing the grass. I am now quite rested 
from the hurry, bustle, and worry of New York life, 
and shall be ready for it when the autumn comes, 
though I shall then be nearly fifty years old; but 
' ' e'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. ' ' Tell Jack 
that my knowledge of French and German assisted 
me in reading his letter, and that I enjoyed it hugely. 
I hope he will write me again. 

Say to Hymie that Brother Landon Taylor called on 
me the other day. Hymie will remember his book. 1 
I have now told you everything interesting and unin- 
teresting, and will mail my letter in the hope that you 
will get it this summer. Do you remember where 
you were a twelvemonth ago ? Last Fourth of July 
we returned from Vienna to Dresden. 

Love to Hymie, Susie, and Jack. 

Affectionately, 

Your Mother. 

i " The Battle-Field Reviewed." (See Chapter I, p. 15.) 
320 



flDemoir anb /l&emortals 



To Mrs. Bills 

Los Angeles, July 3, 1884. 
My dear Mrs. Bills : 

After leaving you that night in Davenport, we 
kept right on to Denver, where I stopped for a day to 
see my mother, who is there for her health. Hymie 
joined us in Omaha and left us in Denver, taking 
John home with him. It is unnecessary to say I am 
lonesome without my boys. We stopped in San Fran- 
cisco to see Mrs. Kaufman, and then came here direct. 
After living two or three days in our car, we found a 
comfortable furnished cottage, and have taken it for 
three months. I have a Chinese cook. Who would 
ever have thought that I would come to this? He 
knows some things, and is desirous to know more, 
and I am instructing him. I initiated him yesterday 
into the mysteries of making a chicken pot-pie, and 
it was good. 

Annie is, I dare to hope, a trifle better. I feel sure 
that if there is anything in climate she will improve. 
This is the loveliest climate I have ever found; it is 
never very hot, and the evenings are uniformly cool. 
Eain from April to October is unheard of, the foliage 
being kept in its beauty by the heavy night- dews. 
Eucalyptus-, magnolia-, pepper-, and palm-trees grow 
in abundance, while orange- and lemon-trees, laden 
with fruit, are seen on all sides. I enjoy this place 
very much, and would like to stay here— at least, 
321 



Hnna price Billon 



rather than go back to New York. Why? Because it 
is so much easier to become a barbarian than to be in 
society. With best love from all of us, believe me, 
Yours affectionately, 

Anna P . Dillon. 



To John F . Dillon 

Los Angeles, July 10, 1884. 
Dear Judge : . 

. . . Your letter written the Sunday of your arri- 
val in New York came last night. Annie seems better. 
She has a better appetite, and goes all about the 
house and garden alone. Hymie writes me that he 
and his family and John will leave for this place on 
the 22d. I am glad they are coming, for we are lone- 
some. My Chinaman cook does very well, though he 

has had two sick days. . . . 

A. P. D. 

Los Angeles, July 14, 1884. 
. . . They lynched a Chinaman cook here last 
week, and I have shipped mine. He was perfectly 
worthless— out every night, and slept all the next day; 
and when I found he carried a pistol I had no further 
use for him .... 

A. P. D. 

The family resided, as above mentioned, in the win- 
ters of 1884-85 and of 1885-86 at their home in New 
York, and in the summer of 1885 at Seabright, New 
322 



flfcemoir an& ZlDemorlals 



Jersey, and in that of 1886 at Saratoga. Covering 
this period only a few letters of Mrs. Dillon's of any 
memorial interest have been found. A letter to her 
from her father, dated March 2, 1886, is given in the 
Appendix. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
November 29, 1886. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter of Friday is just received . It gave me 
the only news I have of my poor Lev's funeral. 1 He 
lived with me long enough for me to test his good 
qualities. He was the most generous, unselfish, and 
affectionate boy I ever knew. While he was full of 
mischief, he was always obedient, and willing to take 
punishment for his misdemeanors. Only a month 
since I had a letter from him telling me of his en- 
gagement, and asking me if he might bring his wife 
home to me for a bridal trip. John is completely 
broken up, for he loved Lev dearly. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

The next letter refers to and was written from the 
Saratoga cottage, 704 North Broadway, then recently 
purchased, and which was occupied by the family 
for the first time in the summer of 1887. 

1 Levin Collier, Mrs. Dillon's nephew (the son of her sister Mary), 
was assassinated, without provocation, at Emporia, Kansas, by an in- 
toxicated man who was serving under him. He was buried at Oakdale. 

323 



Hnna f>rice Dillon 



To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga Springs, 
Sunday, July 24, 1887. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter of July 2 reached me in due time. I 
was truly glad to get the news it brought me. 

I have been in Saratoga for seven weeks. It is lovely 
here, and I am so happy. Susie Price is here, and I 
believe she is enjoying it. I would like to have you get 
a taste of the comfort of being here, and a glimpse of 
the beauty of trees, grass, and flowers that surround 
us. I hope you will not conclude to stay in Denver. 
Pray come back to New York in the autumn, if not 
before. With much love, I am, 

Very sincerely, 

Anna Price Dillon. ' 

The following note incidentally mentions a short 
excursion from Saratoga to Stockbridge and Lenox, 
made by Mrs. Dillon and her two daughters in October, 

1887. 

To John M. Dillon 

Curtis House, Lenox, Massachusetts, 
Wednesday evening, October 12, 1887. 
Dear Pod : 

We came here yesterday, and find it very cold. We 
have ' ' done ' ' Lenox faithfully to-day, and to-morrow 
324 



/IDemoir ant) /Ifoemortals 



we go to Stockbridge. Friday we return to Saratoga. 
Annie will leave us at Albany and take the train for 
New York that leaves Saratoga at 12:45 p. m. Be 
sure to meet her at the depot at seven o'clock, for she 
will be alone. 

This is a lovely place— indeed, the most beautiful I 
ever saw. Affectionately, 

Mama. 

The next two letters were written in December, 1887, 
from Topeka, where Mrs. Dillon was visiting her eld- 
est son and his family. On the way to that place 
Mrs. Dillon was for a short time the guest of Mrs. 
McCullough at Davenport. She was joined in Topeka 
at Christmas by her other son, and returned with him 
to New York early in January, 1888. 

To Mrs. McCullough 

Topeka, Kansas, December 7, 1887. 
My dear Friend : 

I reached here Sunday at noon, pretty well tired 
out, though it was only from traveling, as I had no 
responsibility ; for Hymie, who met me at Daven- 
port, is a finished and expert traveler. They had a 
good dinner ready for me, and Jack was on tiptoe of 
expectation. The weather is charming, much like 
May. How is it with you? Delightful, I suppose, 
now that I am gone. . . . 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 
325 



Hnna price 2>tilon 



To Mrs. McCullough 

Topeka, December 27, 1887. 
My dear friend Bessie : 

A day or two before Christmas a mysterious pack- 
age, which looked as if it might contain a book, came 
to this place, and was hustled away into a closet to 
await the great opening time, which, with us, is 
Christmas morning after breakfast, when the whole 
family assembles, and the jolly work of cutting 
strings and unwrapping packages begins. Jack was 
especially anxious to see the inside of your package, 
for I had received your letter and read to him from 
it that you had left an order with Santa Claus to send 
him a book. When he had it, and looked it over 
carefully, he sagely remarked that, as "the letters 
were so large, he could easily read it without any help. ' ' 

John reached here Christmas morning. The snow- 
storm delayed the train from New York to St. Louis, 
and he could not make connections at the latter place. 
He is obliged to be home at the Law School 1 for the 
first lecture of the new year's course, which begins 
on the 9th prox., so I suppose we shall leave here 
about one week from Thursday. John is sorry to go 
back without seeing Frank, for whom he has always 
had a strong attachment; and I fear I must give up 
my trip to Lincoln to see Mrs. "Wing, for, to tell the 
plain truth, I am not well enough to travel. I am 

1 The Columbia College Law School. 
326 



jflDemotr anfc /iDemorials 



worn out, and prudence whispers, ' l Give it up and 
go home." Love to all, and believe me, 
Always yours devotedly, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The foregoing was perhaps the last letter written 
by Mrs. Dillon to Mrs. McCullough, who died at 
Davenport in March, 1888. As above stated, Mrs. 
Dillon, while en route to Topeka, was a guest for 
some days of Mrs. McCullough. During this stay 
Mrs. Dillon was quite ill, and the whole-hearted hos- 
pitality and loving care which she received on that 
occasion were always remembered with gratitude. 
This, among other things, is referred to in the letter 
to Mrs. Smith which follows, in which Mrs. Dillon 
pays a heartfelt tribute to the sterling character and 
worth of her deceased friend. 

To Mrs. Mary Eeed Smith 

New York, Monday, April 23, 1888. 
My dear Friend : 

Your kind letter, which brought the sad, sad news 
of the death of one of my dearest friends, has been 
here a month. At first I was so stunned that I could 
neither talk nor write. Nearly all of the past month I 
have been housed, and most of the time confined to my 
bed, or your letter would have been answered before. 

I cannot realize that my dear friend is dead— 
that I shall never again see her face or feel the 
touch of her hand. Since I have known Mrs. McCul- 

327 



Buna price 2)xlion 



lough well I have loved her devotedly. She was a 
genuine woman. If she professed a friendship she 
felt it; nothing in the world could make her hypo- 
critical. I am devoutly thankful for the time I was 
permitted to spend with her. No one can know bet- 
ter than I of her faithful ministering, her tender, 
unremitting care, and of her devotion to duty. The 
pleasure of the few days spent under her roof on my 
last visit to my son will be a cherished memory until 
I, too, am called to " join the choir invisible." 

You ask if Mrs. McCullough was with us in our 
charitable work as early as '73 or 74. I do remem- 
ber distinctly that she did not come with the organi- 
zation until after I became the president, and then 
it was at my earnest solicitation. 

Eemember me to my friends. They are very dear 
to me, and each one that goes leaves a place that 
cannot be filled. ... I am, 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

The letter which follows is to Mrs. Silsbee at 
Omaha, where she was then living. 

To Mrs. Silsbee 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
Christmas, 1888. 
My dear Friend : 

Have I really found you again? Last evening there 
was delivered at my door a little book entitled ' ' Grand- 
328 



/iDemolr anfc> /iDemortals 



ma's Attic Treasures." Until I found the card I was 
puzzled to know who had sent me such a delightful 
story, describing so well the craze of the present time 
for antique furniture. The book has given me great 
pleasure, but that does not equal the pleasure of know- 
ing where you are. I verily thought I had lost you, 
and it has been a great grief to me. Do you never 
come East to your old home in Bath? Surely, if you 
did, you would come to me for a while at least. 

I went to Kansas last winter to visit my son and 
his wife, and fully intended to go to Omaha and to 
Lincoln; but I was taken ill in Topeka, and was only 
able to get home, without doing any extra traveling. 
If all goes well I expect to be in Kansas before the 
winter closes, and, if so, shall make a great effort to 
see you, and also Mrs. Wing and Mrs. Barnard in 
Lincoln. Susie was in Europe with friends all 
summer. I shall now leave her to take care of the 
family until I get rested. Susie Price was married in 
November last, and has a good husband, I think. You 
must give cordial remembrances to Mr. Silsbee, and 
with much love to your own dear self, and ardent 
wishes for a ' ' Merrie Christmas, ' ' I am, as ever, 

lovingly, 

Your 

Anna Price Dillon. 

The next two letters, written by Mrs. Dillon in 1889, 
when she was visiting her son Hiram at Topeka, are 
given for the pleasant glimpses they aiford of family 
life. 

329 



Bnna fl>nce SHlion 



To John M. Dillon 

Topeka, Thursday, January 31, 1889. 
Dear Pod : 

Your letter reached me this morning. I can ima- 
gine your trepidation in Chicago at finding your bag 
and coat gone. I presume you began to suspect that 
you were doomed to ill luck when traveling. 

Hymie intends to give a dinner, and I wish you to 
get two cans of terrapin at King's Market, and three 
cans of macMoine at Park & Tilford's, put them in a 
strong wooden box, and let Michael take them to the 
express office after you have directed them. Please 
attend to this immediately, as he wants to give the 
dinner as soon as they come. The weather here ex- 
cels anything I have ever seen in America; the birds 
are chirping as if it were spring instead of midwinter. 

Don't take the lemon-juice without diluting, or it 
will do you more harm than good. Love to all. 
Affectionately, 

Your Mother. 

To John M. Dillon 
Topeka, Sunday, February 17, 1889. 

Dear Poddie : 

Your letter of Wednesday night came yesterday. 
Hymie has not yet sent out his invitations for the 
dinner; he is waiting till Susie gets over the recep- 
tion in my honor, which came off last Wednesday, and 
330 



flDemoir anfc tfDemorials 



was a very swell affair. I am glad you like your 
bird; hope you '11 enjoy him while I am away, for 
his little head must be cut off when I get back. I wrote 
you that the terrapin and other cans had arrived. 

I have already written your father that the settee 
for Hymie came in good shape. He and I are pre- 
paring to go to Santa Fe about the 1st of March. 
Susie Price is in Denver, having a good time. She 
and Aunt Annie and Lutie have all written me to 
come and make a visit. 

Tell Annie that the little dishes came yesterday, 
and I 'm going to send them to-morrow to the little 
three-year-old who has had her ' ' old slippers for 
years " ! 1 Love to all. 

Very affectionately, 

Mama. 

On the return from Topeka Mrs. Dillon visited Hol- 
lidaysburg. 2 

To John F. Dillon II 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
April 4, 1889. 
My dear Little Casino : 3 

I will send you to-morrow some Little Lord Faun- 
tleroy writing-paper, so that when you get over the 

1 The little daughter of Mrs. Wheeler of Topeka. Mrs. Dillon said 
to her : " Eleanor, I see you have on a new pair of slippers." She an- 
swered, " Oh, no, Mrs. Dillon ; I have had these for years and years ! " 

2 See Chapter I, pp. 8, 9. 

3 A humorous name given by Mrs. Dillon to her eight-year-old grand- 
son, on account of his persistency in compelling her to play casino with 
him. This letter was written soon after her return to New York, as re- 
lated in the introduction to this chapter. 

331 



Hnna ©rice Billon 



measles you can write me ; also a deck of pretty cards 
that you may have for your very own. They are 
quite a new thing, and you can amuse yourself with 
them while you are in bed. I am anxious to hear 
how you get on, and whether the measles have dis- 
appeared. There is a circus in town just now, with 
a great many animals and a large herd of Arabian 
horses and some very small ponies. I hope they will 
stay until you come to New York. I wish you were 
here now. I have no one to play cards with me. 
Very affectionately, 

Grandmother. 

The two following letters refer to a trip to Old Point 
Comfort, made in April, 1889, by Mrs. Dillon and her 
daughters, Susie and Annie. 

To John F. Dillon 

Old Point Comfort, Virginia, 
April 7, 1889. 
Dear Judge : 

I have just sent you a night message in answer to 
the despatch I found awaiting me when I arrived. 
TVe did not get here until three-thirty this afternoon. 
We arrived at Cape Charles in due time. i. e., 7 a. m., 
embarked on the boat which was waiting, and put out 
into the angriest sea I ever saw. I was deathly sick, 
and when, after two hours' buffeting the waves, we 
reached the pier, the wind was so high that the boat 
332 



/SDemofr ant) Memorials 



could not land. They threw out the plank, and some 
people took their lives in their hands and jumped 
ashore, leaving trunks and baggage to their fate. I 
was so ill that I could n't be gotten down-stairs in 
time to jump, and so we were carried off to Norfolk. 
By the time we reached that place, the trip down 
the Elizabeth River had put me on my feet, and we 
went to a hotel for dinner, and at two o'clock came 
back here. It was all the boat could do to land, and 
we had to be very active to get ashore. I wished 
myself at home or dead many times to-day. 

It rained in torrents all the time I was in Nor- 
folk, so that I made no effort to see Louise, 1 but when 
I arrived here I found a despatch from her, saying, 
' ' Boats not considered safe in this storm. ' ' So you see 
what a risk we ran in crossing. 

There are four hundred people in this house, ,and it 
is beautifully situated; when the sun shines again I 
can tell you more about it. I will write again when 
I come to some conclusion as to whether it would pay 
you and John to come down. 

Ever yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Old Point Comfort, April 9, 1889. 
... I wrote you on Saturday evening, and sup- 
pose the letter reached you this morning. The storm 

1 Mrs. Dillon's niece, Mrs. Louise Collier Willcos. 

333 



Hnna price Dillon 



has ceased, and we are having the first sunshine I have 
seen since leaving New York. A sailing-vessel was 
wrecked off this coast, and nine bodies and the debris 
have come ashore three miles from here ; many of the 
guests have gone to see the wreck. Can you come 
down Friday night ?— and let 's go home Sunday. I 
have had enough of this now. 

A. P. D. 

Mrs. Graham and her family had occupied Leafland 
during a part of the time of Mrs. Dillon's first absence 
in Europe. 1 On learning of Mrs. Graham's death, 
Mrs. Dillon wrote to her daughter this tender letter. 

To Mrs. Anna Graham Lord 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
Monday, April 15, 1889. 
My dear Anna : 

I reached home yesterday, and found the letter re- 
counting the sad news of your mother's accident and 
sickness, also the despatch announcing her death. I 
am grieved to know that I have one friend less in my 
old home. The one called was to me more like a 
sister than an acquaintance. Poor dear! I had hoped 
to see her once more before she left us; but it was 
not so ordered. 

I was in Topeka several weeks this past winter, but 
was too wretched in health to extend my visit to 
friends at Davenport, who would have found me 

1 See Chapter I, p. 82. 
334 



/IDemoir anb jflDemortals 



more of a burden than a pleasure. Now I am so dis- 
tressed that I did not go to Davenport, if for a day 
only, that I might have just spoken with her, if no 
more. Since I was last with you, your mother and 
Mrs. McCullough have gone, and I feel that I am 
sorely bereft. You have lost the best of mothers. I 
never knew one more devoted to her children, and 
particularly to her daughter. Give my love to dear, 
unselfish Mollie and your lonely father, and accept 
from your old-time friend all the love and sympathy 
I feel for you in your sad bereavement. 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Dillon's husband and the daughters Susie and 
Annie left for Europe July 17, 1889, destined for Carls- 
bad. Mrs. Dillon and her sons John and Hiram, and 
the family of the latter, and her father, remained at the 
Saratoga cottage. The following note was written to 
catch the husband before the steamer sailed. The 
letters which follow in this chapter were addressed to 
him at Carlsbad and Paris. 



To John F. Dillon 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
July 16, 1889. 
Dear Judge : 

This is the last chance I shall have vous parler be- 
fore a letter can reach you in Deutschland. This is a 
335 



Bnna price Biiion 



perfect day, the finest we have had this summer, and 
you miss much by not being here. Everything is 
still— too still; the half -vacant house seems entirely 
too large. Susie and Annie's room affects me dread- 
fully, it is so empty and quiet. It is all picked up and 
cleaned. Annie's table in the corner, with its bell, 
and the fan she used at night, with " Sylvia " keeping 
watch over her. makes me "unco" sad. Susie's 
slippers and wrapper look so empty and forlorn that 
I "ve closed the closet door and put them out of 
sight. To tell the truth. I 'm profoundly lonesome, 
and everything reminds me that you are gone. The 
library table is all fixed up and tidy, and the very or- 
der of it brings a sigh. Out on the lawn they are cut- 
ting the grass with a great clatter ; but there is nobody 
to disturb by it now. no sick girl to worry, and I 'm 
dreadfully sad. But enough of this. I will order 
the carriage and take a drive. Boh voyage. God bless 
you. and good-by. 

Very affectionately yours, 

Avxa P. Dillon. 



To John F. Dillon 

70i Xorth Broadway, Saratoga. 
July 19. 1SS9. 
Dear Judge : 

In accordance with a request made in the note you 
wrote on shipboard and sent back by the revenue 
cutter, I write now so that the letter may follow you 
336 



flfeemofr anfc /iDemorials 



on the steamer that sails to-morrow, Saturday. I re- 
ceived all the letters from you and the girls written 
after leaving Saratoga and before sailing. John re- 
turned here on Thursday, and he also gave an account 
of packing preparations, your flowers, fruit, and final 
departure. You are now more than forty-eight hours 
out,and know well whether you are to be seasick or not. 

We have not had one unpleasant day since you left ; 
the weather is beautiful. Everything in the house 
moves smoothly. It is very quiet— indeed, too quiet. 
The sight of the girls' room saddens me ; as long as 
they were to go, I wish they had taken everything 
belonging to them. I miss you all, but none so much 
as my sick one, who has been my constant companion. 

My father is determined to go home, and will leave 
here next Tuesday, and spend the night with Mary 
and Susie Price at the New York Hotel. Tell Susie 
that Pluto 1 has developed a very savage trait. He 
has jumped at several people, and he tore the coat off 
one man, and I have had to muzzle him. We all went 
down yesterday and sat for a group picture. In the 
proof I look like the grandmother of the whole lot 
instead of only one. 2 When you write, number your 
letters, and then I shall know if they all reach me. 
Give my love to the girls, and tell them I shall write 
to them. Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

1 The name of a St. Bernard dog presented to Susie by Senator 
McPherson. 

2 This is the picture of four generations, i. e., of her father, herself, 
her son Hiram, and his son Jack. 

337 



Hnna price Billon 



To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
Saturday, July 20, 1889. 
Dear Mary : 

Your note in answer to the short one I wrote you 
on Thursday has just come. I am truly glad that 
you find it practicable to be in New York city next 
Tuesday. Pappy cannot be persuaded to stay here 
any longer than that day, and if you and Susie Price 
were not to be in the city I should go down with him 
and make him comfortable at 671 until he goes on to 
Washington. 

I do not wish to go to the city in this heat, for I am 
not very well able to travel. I am greatly obliged to 
you for the long letter you sent describing your stay 
with the girls until their departure. They all wrote 
me, and sent letters back by the boat that conducted 
them down the bay. I am very lonesome without 
them, and miss them more than I can tell. Monday 
was the worst day of my life. I thought for about 
twelve hours that my heart and head would burst. I 
retired to the room you occupied when here, and 
locked the door till I got the mastery of myself. 

I am very sorry to hear that Susie Sterling is so 
wretched. John says she looks bad. I wish that 
you and she (if you feel equal to it) would take pity 
on me, in my desolation, and come, either in August 
or September, and make me a visit. I should be 
338 



flDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



pleased to have Mr. Sterling, too. Give my love to 
my dear niece. With much love and gratitude for 
what you did for my girls, I am, 

Always yours, 

Margery. 

To John F. Dillon 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
July 30, 1889. 
Dear Judge : 

I have nothing to say that will be especially inter- 
esting, but if to-morrow's steamer does n't take a line 
there will be a long space between letters. Every- 
thing goes on as usual. It has rained constantly for 
four days. The spike from the aloe has gotten to be 
fifteen feet high, with no sign of flower except that 
there have started out from the sides of it, near the 
top, several smaller spikes that have on the ends clus- 
ters resembling little cauliflowers. The whole thing is 
a failure except the length of the spike. The sunflow- 
ers will soon be in their glory, and I have an ocean of 
sweet peas. The pear-tree near the kitchen window 
is loaded to the ground ; I tie Pluto near it every night, 
in the hope that I may get some fruit this year. Pluto 
is a terror to every one who comes into the grounds, 
but the same persons may pass along the sidewalk 
with impunity. He never notices them unless they 
make a move to enter, or even look in ; then he gives 
them to understand that he is on guard. I have taken 
339 



Hnna ©rice Dillon 



him out of the stable and have made him a bed in the 
tool-house. Frederic and he are sworn friends. He 
walks beside him when he goes down-town, with his 
tail waving and his head up. But, poor fellow ! he has 
to be ignominiously tied up when he returns ; but that 
is a necessity. 

I suppose your Southampton letter will reach me 
about the 3d of August ; I shall then know what sort 
of a voyage you had. By this time you are domiciled 
at Carlsbad, and Annie probably has begun her cure. 
When you write, tell me how you spend your time, 
and what are your prospects of going to Vienna and 
Prague. Give my love to the girls and tell them that 
their room has a most deserted look. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The next letter is to her daughter Annie at Carlsbad. 



To Miss Akkle Dillon 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
August 25, 1889. 
My dear Annie "Dinnin " : 

Do you ever consider how much letter- writing I 
do ? Just think : two letters every week since you 
left, except once, and then I was only able to write 
one. I sent off a long letter to Susie last Saturday, 
and on Wednesday I sent your father his fourth let- 
ter. Is not that doing pretty well ? You know, I 
340 



flDemoir anb flDemortals 



have everything to do myself —my accounts to keep, 
all the catering for a large family, and all the agree- 
able when people call. It is very entertaining to see 
Frederic and Pluto together; there is perfect sym- 
pathy and confidence between them. Some day I ex- 
pect to see Pluto on his hind legs, walking arm in 
arm with Fred. They go to market every morning, 
and Pluto looks up the basket if it is not already on 
hand. We let him loose now at night, and sometimes 
he sleeps on the piazza and sometimes on the kitchen 
side porch. When he sleeps there, John watches him 
out of his window, and he says that during the night 
he makes frequent trips around the house, taking 
naps between. 

Supper is over and I resume my letter- writing. 
Pluto, Hymie, and I took a long walk this evening. 
Pluto seemed as human as any of us. He would 
march on ahead, and then run back and sniff at my 
hand as if to say, " Is it all right ? " I shall be very 
sorry when the time comes to leave him here. John 
says Eeilly will keep him for us. Give my love to 
your father and Otie. 1 I have no time to write more, 
as I intend to mail this letter so that it will catch 
Tuesday's steamer instead of Wednesday's. With love, 

Affectionately, 

Mama. 

The following was addressed to her husband at 
Paris, to meet him on his way home from Carlsbad. 

1 A familiar name for her daughter Susie. 
341 



Hnna ©rice Billon 



To John F. Dillon 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
September 2, 1889. 
Dear Judge: 

Your letter No. 6 reached me last Friday, just be- 
fore I mailed a letter to Susie. Since then there has 
not been anything worth recording, but as you will 
expect a letter from home, I will not disappoint you, 
for I know how desolate it makes one feel to expect a 
letter and not get it. 

The book of Prague photos came on Saturday last. 
They are excellent pictures, and are only enjoyable 
for that reason, as I was so stupid as not to stop there, 
though we passed through twice. I wonder you did 
not go on to Vienna; it is not more than six or eight 
hours farther, and the Hirschls would have been de- 
lighted to see you and show you their beautiful 
city. 

If I have kept correct account of the weeks, there 
is only one more until Annie finishes her cure. I 
think she can be no better, for every one of you is so 
silent on the subject; even she says nothing about 
herself. "Well, if she is not cured no one will .be 
more disappointed than she, for I have no doubt she 
has done everything required of her, and strictly ob- 
served the regimen. I am worrying somewhat, but 
try not to think, and to make the best of it. 

The Grand Union Garden Party came off last Sat- 
342 



PORTRAIT OF MRS. DILLON, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH 
TAKEN AT SARATOGA, 1889. 



flDemoir anb /Ifeemorials 



urday night. John took Mary Price, as she was the 
only one of the family who had not seen it. People 
are beginning to leave, and soon Saratoga will be 
asleep for another eight months. The days for the 
past two weeks have been fine— indeed, we are just 
beginning to have summer weather. Our grounds 
are looking well, and the pear-tree next to the house 
on the south side has a fine crop of fruit, and, thanks 
to Pluto, we are getting the benefit of it. Tell the girls 
that while I write I have three large, yellow, mel- 
low pears, which I shall proceed to eat in the course 
of the afternoon. 

This letter will reach you in Paris, when you will be 
so taken up by the sights that you will hardly find time 
to read it. I wish I could be there so as to introduce 
you to some of my old haunts. Go out to the Troca- 
dero, and up the Champs-Elysees, take in the Avenue 
de la Grande Armee, and be sure to take the tram- 
way and ride round to the Batignolles ; while you do 
so, just think of the many times I have done that 
alone when the girls were in school. 

You will see by the inclosed clipping that our 
old friend Judge Fitch is dead. I feel sorry, now, 
that I was not able to see more of him when he 
called. 

The aloe still hangs fire as to blooming; I will try to 
send you in this a sample of the flowers, and the one 
the most advanced. I vote the whole plant a fraud. 
It is not beautiful, and only serves to attract the pro- 
vincials that pass. Give my love to the girls. I must 

343 



Hnna price Billon 



hurry and close this letter so as to catch Wednesday's 
steamer. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Prior to the date of the next letter Mrs. Dillon's 
husband and daughters had returned from Europe. 

The two letters which follow were written by Mrs. 
Dillon to her son John at Topeka, where he was visit- 
ing his brother preparatory to a hunting-trip to the 
Indian Territory. Although he was twenty-one, his 
mother in this letter, as in others, resorts occasionally 
to the infantile vocabulary she had been accustomed 
to use when speaking familiarly to him, A pathetic 
allusion to Leafland will be noticed. 

To John M. Dillon 

New York, Thursday, October 24, 1889. 
My dear John : 

Your letter written Friday night has just reached 
me, and the answer will go out on this evening's train. 
Glad your journey was so comfortable, and that 
everything was in such good shape for the home- 
comers. Your remarks about Davenport are well 
understood. When I was there two years ago, I 
drove past Leafland and its ruins, and cried like a 
baby at the sight of the place, and the recollection 
of the days that will never come again. 

Your account of your health is encouraging. If I 
could believe all you say, I 'd be happy; but I fear it 
344 



/IDemoir an& flDemoriate 



is a " bid He, 11 told to keep us at this end of the line 
in good spirits. The weather here is good ; but every- 
thing has a lonesome look since my family has grown 
so small. I hope you may enjoy the hunt. Will send 
the camera whenever you say. Am going down this 
afternoon to see Dr. Flint about my throat. Will at 
the same time buy a screen to set up at your window 
when Hymie gets that terrible furnace going. Eat 
all you want, but take your cup of hot water half an 
hour before meals. It will thin you out wonderfully. 
Be sure to put in the juice of a lemon. It will 
sweeten the blood and keep off rheumatism. Give 
love to my biggest and best boy, and keep a large lot 
for yourself. Mary Price and the girls send lots of 
love to you and Hymie. Tell Hymie to write me 

when he has time. 

Affectionately, 

Mama. 

To John M. Dillon 

671 Madison Avenue, 
Sunday, October 27, 1889. 
Dear Pod: 

Your last letter came at the same time with one from 
Hymie, to whom I wrote on Friday. This is a very 
gloomy, rainy day, the streets deserted by all except 
a few religious devotees, who, with prayer-book in 
hand, are dragging their soaked clothing homeward. 
We went yesterday to hear the Kendals in ' ' The 
Ironmaster." I was somewhat entertained and 
somewhat disappointed. Mrs. Kendal is considered 

345 



Hnna price HHllon 



the finer actor of the two ; both are tame compared 
with Irving and Terry. 

Let me know whether the camera arrives all right, 
and if the sticks which support it are in good shape. 
Where do you suppose I found them ? After moving 
everything in the storehouse and in the closet at the 
head of the fourth flight of stairs, I gave up in despair, 
and was just sitting down to write you that they could 
not be found, and that I should not send the camera, 
when it occurred to me to look in your closet, when 
lo ! there they were on the top shelf. I hope you will 
get pleasure enough out of it to compensate me for 
my trouble. 

The Elys celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anni- 
versary next Saturday. We expect to go. 1 

Your father has had another shock in the death of 
Judge Van Vorst, one of his friends, who lived quite 
near us. 

When are you arranging to come home, Sonny ? 
Give my love to Hymie. 

Very affectionately, 

Mama. 

To John M. Dillon 

671 Madison Avenue, 
Monday, October 28, 1889. 
My dear Pod ; 

You 'd a good one ! I wrote you yesterday, but this 
morning there came a letter from you, written Thurs- 

1 This refers to the silver-wedding anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. George 
W. Ely, valued and esteemed friends of Mrs. Dillon and her family. 

346 



/IDemolt anfc /iDemoriais 



day night, saying that you and Hymie expected to 
start on your hunting-trip this week. I hasten to 
write so that you may get the letter before you go. 
I wrote Hymie on Friday. I suppose he has the let- 
ter ere this. 

I am glad that you appreciate your ignorance of the 
Bible. When you get to reading it, picture to your- 
self a little yellow-haired girl with blue eyes and plain 
clothes, poring daily over its pages, committing to 
memory its verses by hundreds,— once the number 
reached seven hundred in a week,— and you see your 
mother forty-five years ago. 1 

Michael has been "fired." 2 He gave your father 
some impudence, and was fired quicker than he 
anticipated. That is the account of your friend 
No. 1. Now the next news is that your little bird 
hanged himself last Saturday— friend No. 2. Lena 
was down-stairs, and when she went back he was 
dead. He had, to all appearances, caught his head, 
when flying, in the top wires of the cage. We are all 
sorry, and are vowing never to have any more 
pets. 

Tell Susie Brown I received a letter from her a day 
or two ago, and will soon answer it. 

When are you coming home, "old one"? The 
library is the most forlorn place I ever saw, very 
orderly, and your chair has a desolate look „that I 
can't stand. I am dreadfully lonesome, at night 
especially. Tell Hymie I would give more than I 

1 See Chapter I, p. 27. 2 The coachman. 

347 



Hnna iprice Billon 



have just now to have him come in smoking, even if 
it were a cigarette ! Love to all. 

Affectionately, 

Mama. 

It was during the summer of 1889, while living at 
Saratoga, that Mrs. Dillon had the photograph taken 
which has been already mentioned, 1 and as it is the 
only one in profile taken in later life, a photogravure 
of it is given in this volume, although the picture was 
never quite satisfactory to her or her family. 

After the date of the last letter, and until the date 
of the letters first given in the next chapter, Mrs. Dillon 
was at her home, 671 Madison Avenue, except when 
absent on visits to her father. 

i See Chapter I, p. 41, note. 




348 



CHAPTER IX 

LIFE IN EUROPE 

1890-93 

1890, Third visit to Europe — Accident to Gascogne — Carlsbad — Re- 
turn to America— 1891, Fourth visit to Europe — Aix-les-Bains — 
Cure — Return to America — Her father's illness — Wedding of 
son John, November 10, 1891 — 1892, Fifth visit to Europe — Paris — 
Apartment at 12 Rue Pierre Charron— Carlsbad — Return to Amer- 
ica, April, 1893. 

LETTERS TO JOHN F. DILLON, MRS. BILLS, MRS. MARY 

REED SMITH, MRS. PHELPS, MRS. MARY PRICE, 

JOHN M. DILLON, AND HIRAM PRICE 




^|RS. DILLON visited Europe the third time in 
1890. A family party, consisting of her- 
self, her daughter Annie (who was recently 
married and who was accompanied by her husband), 
Susie Dillon, John M. Dillon, Susie Brown Dillon and 
her son John F. Dillon II (called ' ' Jack ' ' in the letters) , 
sailed May 17, 1890, on the Gascogne, Carlsbad being 
the objective point. The Saratoga cottage was not 
occupied this year by the family, Mrs. Dillon's father 
349 



Hnna price Dillon 



and her husband stopping for the summer at the 
United States Hotel in Saratoga. The Gascogne 
struck a rock off the Scilly Isles, and all on board 
narrowly escaped a fearful death. Mrs. Dillon, after 
reaching Carlsbad, found that she could not take 
the waters, and thereupon went to Dresden, leav- 
ing her daughters at Carlsbad to finish their cure. 
In August they all returned to Paris, via Frank- 
fort and Homburg. They left Havre on the Bour- 
gogne for home, October 11, 1890, arriving at New 
York Saturday, October 18. The family resided at 
671 Madison Avenue during the winter of 1890-91. 
Shortly after returning from Davenport, in July, 
1891, as related below, Mrs. Dillon made her fourth 
visit to Europe, her physician advising the milder 
waters at Aix-les-Bains, France. With her daughter 
Susie as her companion, she sailed July 24, 1891, on 
the Boargogne, leaving the rest of the family at the 
Saratoga cottage. Her esteemed friend Mrs. Mary 
M. Holmes, was already at Aix. Mrs. Dillon took the 
regular cure at that place with seeming benefit. The 
daughter Susie remained abroad for the winter with 
her friends Mr. and Mrs. Leech. Mrs. Dillon (accom- 
panied by Mrs. Holmes) returned to America, reach- 
ing New York November 9, 1891, in time, as planned, 
for the wedding of her son John, who, on November 
10, was married to Miss Lucy S. Downing, daughter 
of Augustus C. Downing of New York, that day 
being selected because it was the anniversary of the 
350 



/Ifcemoir anfc /IDemotials 



celebration of his mother's marriage. 1 The family 
resided at 671 Madison Avenue during the winter of 
1891-92, and until Mrs. Dillon left for Europe in 
June. 

Under medical advice Mrs. Dillon and her daughter 
Annie again went to Carlsbad, with a view of after- 
ward remaining for the winter in the milder climate 
of Europe. They sailed from New York in June, 

1892, on what was Mrs. Dillon's fifth visit to Europe. 
Here she was joined by her daughter Susie, who was 
already in Europe. Mrs. Dillon rented, for greater com- 
fort, an apartment, No. 12 Rue Pierre Charron, for a 
year. Her son John and his wife lived with his father 
at 671 Madison Avenue from October, 1892, to April, 

1893, at which time Mrs. Dillon and her daughters re- 
turned on the Bretagne to New York, where they were 
greeted by all of the family, including her son Hi- 
ram, who came on from Kansas. The family resided 
in their Madison Avenue home during the winter of 
1893-94. On April 6, 1893, Mrs. Dillon received in Paris, 
from her husband, proofs of the first chapter of his 
Yale University Lectures, delivered at New Haven in 
the college year 1891-92, and which, upon their publi- 
cation, he dedicated to her, as stated in a previous 
chapter. 2 

In the first letter, as also in a subsequent one, Mrs. 
Dillon recounts the accident to the steamer off the 
Scilly Isles. 

1 See Chapter I, p. 14. 2 s e e Chapter I, p. 38. 

351 



Hnna iprice Dillon 



To John F. Dillon 

Steamship Gascogne, 
Sunday evening, May 25, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

In order that you may have a line, I hasten to get 
a place at this dining- table, where everybody is writ- 
ing. "We expect to reach Havre to-morrow at seven 
o'clock; before evening you will have heard by cable 
of our safe arrival there or otherwise. We have had 
a smooth voyage, without anything to break the 
tedium of a nine days' trip, until this morning, at 
about seven o'clock, we ran upon the rocks off the 
Scilly Isles, and tore a hole in our bow six feet long. 
We got off in a short time, and are proceeding on 
our way, expecting to arrive without further delay. 
We had dense fog, which was the cause of our acci- 
dent. 

I expect you to tell me, in your first letter, whether 
you have rented the Saratoga cottage. If you do so, 
you will need the inventory of articles in it. The 
key to my desk is tied on to the wire of ' ' The Angel 
Carrying a Baby, ' ' in the middle bedroom. The in- 
ventories (one to keep and one for the lessee) are in 
the top row of pigeonholes. G-ive the lessee the yel- 
low one; it is written better than the other. i Be sure 
to lock the desk and put back the key. When you 
write tell me all the news about everybody. In gen- 

1 See Chapter I, p. 26. 

352 



fl&emott ant) /IDemorials 



eral the passengers on this vessel are tres commun ; 
with a few exceptions, I never care to see any of them 
again. John has done nothing but tease me, and I 
don't know what I have said. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To John F. Dillon 1 

Hotel Chatham, Paris, May 30, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

The steamship City of New York has just brought 
to Paris the mail from the United States, and among 
it your letter written on the Sunday after we left. 
We are located at the above hotel. You have, 
of course, heard all about the accident to the Gas- 
cogne. I told you something of it in the letter I 
wrote you on shipboard, though I did not then know 
all the danger. We are planning to get away from 
here for Geneva, but cannot say positively when 
that will be. Annie seems very well. John talks of 
going to London; to-night he dines with Mr. and Mrs. 
Eeiset. I have no news for you, as I have been no- 
where except on the street. Write me, and give my 
love to everybody. Did you send a telegram to my 
father of our arrival on this side? 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

1 In New York. 
353 



Buna price Dillon 



To John F. Dillon 

Paris, June 1, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

I wrote you last week and sent to Southampton in 
hopes of catching the steamer there. Yesterday Susie 
Brown, Jack, and I made the trip to St. Sulpice, the 
Pantheon, and St. Etienne, by the omnibus. You re- 
member that when last in Paris you and I heard a 
sermon in St. Sulpice, and saw a procession of choir- 
boys. To-morrow we expect to go to the Trocadero 
and the Hotel des Invalides, also to the Eiffel Tower. 
To-day Susie, John, Jack, and I drove through the 
Bois de Boulogne. It was crowded with people, for the 
day has been perfect except for a chill in the air. 
which, by the way, is better than to be so hot. I 
would like to leave here for Switzerland in a week, 
but all of the party do not wish to go so soon. I 
intend to start for Carlsbad about the 15th. . . . 
Very affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Some further details of the accident to the Gascogne 
are given in the next letter. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris. Sunday. June 8, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

I received your letter of the 25th, also a short one 

written after hearing of the Gascogne s accident and 

354 



flDemoir anfc Memorials 



escape. I don't think you can appreciate the great 
horror we escaped, nor can any one who has never 
been placed in a like situation. The rock we struck 
is the same one that sank the Schiller fifteen years 
ago, when Kircher from Davenport was lost. All that 
terrible history came back to me when the accident 
occurred. Until we reached Havre the pumps never 
stopped for one instant ; we ran into port with ten feet 
of water in the hold. If the officers admitted ten feet 
we may readily believe there was considerable more. 

It is two weeks on Monday since we reached here. 
We have put in the time pretty faithfully sight-seeing 
—more on Susie Brown's account than ours, for to her 
it is all new. This morning the party all started for 
London, except Jack, myself, and Marie (the maid). 
They are to be gone one week. I would like to start 
for Carlsbad in a week from this time, but nobody 
seems willing to leave this city. 

I was glad to hear the cottage had been rented. 

Mrs. Henry Hilton is here in Paris; she took Susie to 

the flower festival in the Bois de Boulogne yesterday. 

I have really nothing to tell you, only write to let you 

know that all goes well with us. 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, June 13, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

Your letter written at Shinnecock on Sunday, June 

1, is this minute received; also one from Mrs. Kauf- 

355 



Buna price Dillon 



man. I am anxious to leave here and get to Carlsbad. 
Paris has not the attractions for me that it once had. 
Yesterday I took Jack to the Place de la Bastille, and 
told him, as near as I was able, the history connected 
with it. I have promised him a visit to the Jardin 
d'Acclimatation this afternoon. Last night I had a 
letter from John Munroe, asking me to dinner and 
afterward the opera, which I had to decline on ac- 
count of a cold. 

You did not look well for the inventory of the things 
in the cottage; it is in the top row of pigeonholes in my 
desk; it is written on yellow block paper, and is in- 
closed with the old one in a paper parcel. I want to 
get this into the mail for to-morrow's steamer, so 
must close. 

Very affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The next letter was written after the return to 
Paris from Carlsbad. 



To John F. Dillon 

Hotel du Rhin, Paris, August 11, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

John and I are each in receipt of letters from you 
this morning. We reached Paris last Friday. I left the 
girls, Susie Brown, Jack, and the maid in Homburg. 
John had some things to buy before sailing, and we 
came on here a week before the rest of the family. 
356 



/iDemoir anD /iDemorials 



Annie was much depleted from the cure in Carlsbad, 
and could not come with us. 

I am glad that you and my father are to be in Sara- 
toga. I hope you will stay long enough to cool off. 
The girls and Susie Brown hope to reach here the Fri- 
day before John sails; then, if we are all well, we will 
go to Switzerland for two or three weeks. We are 
more comfortable at this hotel than at any we have 
yet found. I have applied for sailings on the Gascogne 
for September 27, but think it doubtful about getting 
them; if I fail, I must wait for the Bourgogne on Oc- 
tober 11, as I will not trust myself on the Normandie. 
Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, September 15, 1890. 
Dear Judge : 

Yours of September 3 reached me to-day. You say 
nothing of having received letters from me, though 
I have written twice since John left me. It is quite 
late to go to Switzerland, so we have given it up. 

I am sincerely sorry to hear that Klein is so sick 
and wretched. I wish you would go and see him 
when you can. Get the Woman's Exchange to send 
him once or twice a week some calf 's-foot jelly. John 
might lend himself to the good work and take it to 
the old man, for often things that are sent never get 
to the sick for whom they are intended. Tell Klein 
that when I get back I will see that he has everything 
357' 



Hnna fl>rice Billon 



to build him up and make him strong, and that I can't 
keep house in New York without him ; it may please 
him to let him know that I said so.i 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The family, on reaching New York, went to 671 
Madison Avenue to reside for the winter, and after- 
ward to the cottage at Saratoga for the summer of 
1891. 

In the letter to Mrs. Bills which follows Mrs. Dillon 
gives a further short account of the previous summer 
in Europe, and some details relating to herself. 

To Mrs. Bills 

New York, January 28, 1891. 
Dear Friend : 

Since I last wrote you I have had five months abroad. 
Good fortune seemed, for a time, to forsake me. Im- 
mediately upon my arrival at Carlsbad, the latter part 
of June, 1890, I fell ill with neuralgia. It rained con- 
stantly for ten days ; at the end of that time my doc- 
tor ordered me away. My daughter-in-law, Susie 
Brown Dillon, her son Jack, my son John, and I 
went, after leaving Carlsbad, to Dresden. We waited 
there until Annie had finished her cure in Carlsbad. 
She and Susie Dillon then met us in Frankfort, and 
we all went to Homburg for a fortnight, thence to 
Paris. 

» See Chapter I, p. 32. 

358 



flDemoir anfc /flSemorials 



We planned to spend a month in Switzerland, but 
cholera was prevailing in Spain, and there was much 
apprehension of its entering France and Switzerland, 
so we changed our plans. 

My health is somewhat improved by the rest, but I 
cannot say that my gout has in any way diminished ; 
if I could only be cured of these crooked fingers, I 
should regard myself nearly as good as twenty years 
ago, barring the gray hair. 

I have not much to do in the way of housekeeping; 
Susie Dillon relieves me of all that. Annie has an 
apartment in a building near us (the Hoffman Arms). 
She keeps house well. We have her to lunch with us 
almost every day, so that I am not as much bereft as 
if she had gone a long distance from me. 

I think I wrote you that John was engaged to be 
married; no time set for the wedding, but it will 
probably be early in the autumn. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

In June, 1891, Mrs. Dillon's father fell dangerously 
ill while visiting Davenport, and Mrs. Dillon, her 
husband, and their daughter Susie went to that city, 
and remained until Mr. Price had sufficiently recov- 
ered to return with them in July to Saratoga. During 
that illness his friends Mr. and Mrs. John B. Phelps 
removed Mr. Price to their home, and exercised 
their hospitality with the kindest and most devoted 
attention. 

359 



Hnna price Billon 



The letters to Mrs. Mary Eeed Smith, Mrs. Bills 
and Mrs. Phelps relate in part to Mr. Price's illness 
and his return East. 



To Mrs. Mary Eeed Smith 1 

704 North Broadway, Tuesday, July 7, 1891. 
My dear Friend : 

I will send you to-day the wrapper you lent to my 
father, He found it a great comfort, and wore it al- 
most constantly during his journey East. He made 
the trip much more comfortably than we expected. 
I see a great change in him for the better; he seems 
strong, and his great trouble is to make himself be 
quiet. Once in a while he speaks of going home to 
Washington, but when he does so I can never hear— 
being stricken with a sudden and most convenient 
deafness. I have not yet recovered from the shock 
that the despatch that he was ill gave me, the long, 
anxious days, and the hot and weary journey. When 
I have overcome these I presume I shall be well. 
Give my love and thanks to Frank. I hope you are 
no worse than when I saw you, even if no better. 
You seemed so restful and quiet that I almost envied 
you your place. Remember me kindly to the two 
Annas and Mrs. Burlock, and believe me, 
Always your friend, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

1 An intimate friend from early life. (See Chapter I, p. 12.) 

360 



/iDemoit ant> /Ifcemortals 



To Mrs. Bills 

Saratoga Springs, July 8, 1891. 
Dear Friend : 

A little more than a week ago, I saw you sitting 
out on your porch, and I comfort myself with the 
thought that you have taken a step toward recovery. 
We reached home just one week ago yesterday, after 
a comparatively easy trip. My father bore the jour- 
ney well, but kept his bed nearly all the time. He is 
improving slowly but surely. In case we decide to run 
away to Europe for a few weeks, why won't you come 
with us ? Susie is a good traveler, and speaks French 
well enough to act as a good courier. We will have 
a lovely time, and bring back neckties and silk socks 
enough to our husbands to reconcile them to all our 
expenses. . . . 

A. P. D. 

To Mrs. Cornie Woodward Phelps 

Saratoga, July 16, 1891. 
Dear Cornie. 

Yours was received a few days ago. I have been 
quite busy or I should have written before. My fa- 
ther is making steady progress healthward, and looks 
better than I have seen him for a year ; his diet, until 
a few days ago, has been prepared and administered 
by me every three hours. ... I think the regular- 
ity with which he takes his food is largely the cause 
361 



Enna price Dillon 



of his speedy recovery. He is planning to leave for 
Washington on Monday, stopping with my brother 
Willie for a day in New York. I have used every 
argument to keep him in Saratoga through the sum- 
mer, but he is determined to go. 

I am completely worn out, and if I can secure sail- 
ings on any of the steamers I shall be off to Aix- 
les-Bains to take the cure and, if possible, straighten 
out these crooked fingers. 

Always devotedly yours, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

In the next Mrs. Dillon announces her intended 
departure for Europe, and joins with her daughter 
Susie in urging Mrs. Bills to go with them. 

To Mrs. Bills 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
July 16, 1891. 
Dear Friend : 

I can't let this letter go without adding my en- 
treaties to Susie's. Don't let anything prevent your 
going to Europe with me for the cure. I know just 
what you will say: "Oh, I can't." But I answer, 
" You can." Put your things in a trunk and start. 
I will fit you all out for the ocean after we get to 
New York, where we go next Thursday afternoon, 
and will have all day Friday to get a steamer-trunk 
and pack it, and be off early Saturday morning. 
362 



ZlDemoir an& /iDemortals 



You don't need heavy clothes. Susie and I are tak- 
ing but few. We can get everything in Paris. Now, 
come along, and don't be intimidated by the stupen- 
dousness of the undertaking. Tell your sister-in-law 
to give you a good push that will land you in Sara- 
toga early next week. 

My father says he is quite well again, and is going 
to leave for Washington in a day or two. As soon as 
I found that neither coaxing nor threatening would 
keep him, I telegraphed for berths on the Bourgogne ; 
favorable answer came this morning. Please say 

yes, and start. 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Bills was not able to accompany Mrs. Dillon, 
and on July 24, 1891, she and her daughter Susie 
sailed on the Bourgogne for Aix-les-Bains. The rest 
of the family, including Mrs. Mary Price (a relative 
to whom some of the letters below given were writ- 
ten), remained in the cottage at Saratoga. The fol- 
lowing two letters describe the voyage and the arrival 
in Paris. 

To John F. Dillon 

On board La Bourgogne, July 31, 1891. 
Dear Judge : 

They say we are to arrive on Sunday, and that we 

may see the Scilly Isles to-morrow at 2 p.m. I am 

writing you, but I have no idea you will get the letter, 

for I hope you will sail with Messrs. Peck and Eoss- 

363 



Hnna iprice Billon 



ington 1 on the Etruria, on Saturday the 8th prox. "We 
have had so far a quiet and uneventful voyage. With 
the exception of three days' fog and a constant whis- 
tling, we have had nothing to complain of. I have 
not been so sick as usual, and, barring a little dizziness, 
I have gotten on comfortably. This morning it took 
me three hours to get dressed on account of the roll- 
ing of the ship. Mrs. Pendleton has been sick nearly 
all the way. As you do not know our compagnons de 
voyage, it will not interest you to hear about them, 
so my fund of news is somewhat meager. There is a 
young man on board who says he was in your class 
at Columbia College Law School in 1880. After reach- 
ing Paris I shall not go on to Aix for two days, but 
will wait to hear from Mrs. Holmes, who is now at 
that place. With love to all, I am, 

Very affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Paris, Hotel Chatham, 
Sunday, August 2, 1891. 
My dear Pard : 

Two weeks ago to-night we were all (Pappy in- 
cluded) sitting on the gallery of the cottage at Sara- 
toga ; and now think how great a distance separates us. 
We reached here at two-thirty this afternoon, drove to 
the hotel, and asked if they had received a letter from 
me requesting rooms. After spinning round wildly for 

1 Lawyer friends residing in Topeka, Kansas. 

364 



/IDemoir anfc> /Ifcemortals 



ten minutes we were told yes and then escorted to 
where I now sit writing. 

Well, I am terribly lonesome and would like to see 
you mighty well. I had a comfortable time on the 
steamer; went to dinner every evening but one. The 
weather was fair; except three days of fog, it was 
without fault. 

This is a dark, rainy afternoon. Everything in the 
house is as quiet as the grave. I suppose all the guests 
are English, and you know they don't laugh except 
week-days. Susie and I will go to-morrow to see 
about the trip to Aix. 

Monday evening. I had a letter this morning from 
Aix— from Mrs. Holmes. She received my letter, and 
writes that she will get me rooms in the same hotel 
with her. She says that everything is gay. The Bris- 
tows of New York and Mrs. Knickerbocker are there, 
also General Winslow and wife. I will write you all 
as soon as I am settled in Aix. 

Very affectionately, 

Marjorie. 

The five following letters give the course of life at 
Aix, including a vivid description of the cure as 
applied to Mrs. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Bills 

Aix-les-Bains, August 9, 1891. 
My dear Friend : 

Well, dear, I came without you, and reached these 
foreign shores one week ago to-day. The good ship 
365 



Hnna price Billon 



La Bourgogne brought us safe into port in just eight 
days after leaving New York. In Paris we rested 
from the voyage and then came here. I have lost 
no time in commencing the cure. The doctor says 
I have not gout, but what they call here " American 
rheumatism." If rubbing, bathing, and starving will 
accomplish anything, I shall go back in October a 
well woman. 

This is a beautiful place, and just now the gayest I 
have ever been in. There is fine music all day and 
all night. My cure will take three or four weeks. I 
shall then go to Geneva, and thence to Paris, where I 
hope to meet my husband, who half promised me he 
would join a party of lawyers who intend to sail on 
August 8 and coach through England for a month. 
Good-by, dear, and believe me, 

Devotedly yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Aix-les-Bains, August 13, 1891. 
My dear Pard : 

You 're a good one! I have two long letters from 
you, and they were more than welcome, for most of 
my time is spent in bed, and I have plenty of leisure 
to read all I receive. 

I have commenced the treatment, and now I shall 
tell you what it is. In my case the bath is a douche, 
and after having prepared myself for it I step down 
366 



ZlDemofr anfc> /Bbemortals 



into a stone room, or cell, which has a little window at 
the top. Here stand two gray -haired, yellow-skinned 
hags, each with a hose in hand which throws a 
stream of warm water one and a half inches in diam- 
eter. One is turned on your feet as you sit, and the 
other on your body. While the hag behind you is 
rubbing all the skin off your back, the other is twist- 
ing your toes, rubbing your knees, taking each leg in 
turn until you begin to wonder if they mean to leave 
any cuticle anywhere. After all this you are wrapped 
in heavy woolen blankets, a warm towel pinned 
around your head, and put into a sedan-chair, the 
curtains pulled down tight, and two men ' ' tote ' ' you 
off through all the public streets and parks to your 
hotel. Up-stairs they go, even to the fourth floor, and 
lift you, corpse-like, into your bed, and leave you, not 
to perspire, but to dissolve, for half an hour. Then 
the chambermaid comes with hot towels, and rubs 
you off, puts on* your nightgown, and leaves you to 
yourself. Most people get up and dress, but I find 
myself so weak, perspiring so profusely, that I dare 
do nothing but lie in bed. I am very weak and 
shaky— much more so than ever before; and if I go 
on this way, I assure you I shall never be of any use 
to any one again. 

The place is full of people, and many of them the 
rapid kind. Men and women gamble day and night. 
Nearly everybody takes a hand at it once in a while. 
The music here is fine. 

I have no doubt you 're lonesome without your 
3&7 



Hnna price Sillon 



pard. for I know I am without mine. I hope you 
won't preserve any more fruit in the way you de- 
scribe, for I fear you 'II not live till I get home. Is 
Punch a good dog. and does he mind? I am glad 
Annie has taken hold of the housekeeping in such 
earnest. I guns sr.i 'U make 'em mind. "With much 
love. I am, 

Affectionately your pard. 

Haejoeie. 

To 3tlB8. AIap.y G. vox T. Price 

Aix-les-Bains. August 26. 1S91. 
My dear Pard ; 

It is more than a week since I last heard from 
you. but then yon have been faithful in writing your 
Marjorie. I am not going to count letters, and will 
write whenever I have a moment. I don't mean by 
that that I am at all busy, for that is not so. I am 
only disabled by douches, and am most of my time 
in bed because of the weakening effect. Why don't 
you tell me someth in g about the household affairs I 
Have you still the same servants \ . . .1 have yet 
aches to complete the number prescribed. 
That will take a w^rk or ren days. Then I am going 
to Geneva (provided I 'm strong enough to travel) 
to stay a week, then coming back to take six more 
t ths: then I shaU go to Paris for a six weeks' so- 
uth. I wish you and Annie were with us. 
With love, your 

ilAEJOEIE. 

36S 



/IDemoir ant) flfcemorials 



In the letter printed in the note, dated August 30, 
some account is given of matters of interest to Mrs. 
Dillon on this side of the water, which fills up some 
gaps left in her own letters. 1 

The foot-note contains an extract from a letter to 
his mother from her son John respecting the date of 
his intended marriage to Miss Downing. 2 

i 671 Madison Avenue, New York, August 30, 1891. 
My dear Wife : 

I wrote you a long letter from Saratoga last Sunday. On Monday 
1 received a letter from you telling me about your baths down to 
the 13th. 

I now resume my account of things here to this date. On Monday 
last I took Annie and Mary to President Harrison's reception in 
the House of Pansa. On Tuesday morning I started for Boston to at- 
tend the American Bar Association, and remained there until Friday 
night, when, at 11 p. m., I left the banquet to take the midnight train 
for this place, being peremptorily required to be here on Saturday 
morning to give attention to Union Pacific affairs. My work is not 
yet finished. I shall go to Saratoga as soon as I can get away. 

I had a hard week at Boston, and came home somewhat worse for 
the wear, but I shall be all right in a day or so, I hope. I was unani- 
mously elected president for the next year, which,, as the association 
numbers eleven hundred members from over forty States in the Union, 
is esteemed a great honor. The main duties are to preside at the next 
annual meeting (in 1892), and to deliver the opening address. That 
meeting will be held in Saratoga. 

I have had two despatches (by cable) from Fred F. Ayer from Aix- 
les-Bains, insisting that I go to Michigan in September or October to 
try his cases, and I must do so, if possible. This is a duty which I can- 
not put aside, as I have been his counsel in the matter for years, and 
he has relied upon me for this service. 

I have no idea where you are, whether at Aix yet or in Switzerland. 
I therefore send this letter in care of Munroe & Co., Paris. But, wher- 
ever you are, I send you my love and my best wishes that your course 
of waters will have rewarded you for your long journey. With my 
love to Susie, I am ever, 

Affectionately yours, 

John F. Dillon. 

2 704 North Broadway, Saratoga, September 4, 1891. 
Dear Mama : 

, . . I would really like to be married on the 10th of November; please 
try to get home by that time. It is the anniversary of your mar- 

369 



Bnna price H)tUon 



Mrs. Dillon, as already stated, reached New York 
November 9, and the marriage took place next day. 1 



Tq Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Aix-les-Bains, Sunday, September 6, 1891. 
My dear Pard : 

The concierge has just handed me your letter of the 
23d ult. I lay in bed and nearly died laughing at 
your description of the reception. I am arranging to 
start for Geneva in a week or ten days. We shall 
only stay a week, and then come back here for Susie 
to take six more douches. She thinks it is owing to 
those she has taken that she escaped her terrible 
headaches. 

This is a glorious day, and I 'd enjoy being out like 
the rest; but the three ugly old women who spin, 
weave, and cut the thread of life have decreed that 
everything shall be hard for me. There are plenty of 
women here, uglier and older than I, who take douches 
in the morning, walk home, and afterward go about all 
day, and all night, too. Most of them gamble and win 
lots of money, while I try to be good, and have no health 
at all. Surely I was born under an unlucky star. 
You will soon be packing to go back to 671 Madison 
Avenue. Be sure everything is well locked. Take 

riage, and I would like, if possible, to set that day. Papa is still in the 
city. He has not been here for nearly two weeks. He has not had 
much rest this summer on account of Union Pacific. . . . 

J. M. D. 
1 See p. 350. 

370 



PORTRAIT OF HER SON JOHN, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH, 1898. 



/I&emoir anfc /Memorials 



back as much as you can, for I never expect to go there 

again. 

Very affectionately, your own 

Marjorie. 

To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Aix-les-Bains, Sunday, September 13, 1891. 
My dear Pard : 

Three days ago, while in Geneva, I received a letter 
from you, also one from Annie. Annie's I answered 
while there. This morning at eleven o'clock we left 
Geneva, and now are again settled in our rooms at 
Aix. Susie is lying on the bed, tired out from the 
trip. She will again begin the douches to-morrow. 
I have several to take, and then on to Paris. While 
in Geneva I purchased six scarf-pins for John's ushers, 
also a handsome pearl-and-diamond star for Lucy. 

Do tell me all the news. Your letters are always 

so full that I look forward to their coming as a little 

child does to a fete. This letter will probably reach 

you about the 25th inst. We will then be in Paris. 

I am feeling much better than when I came. 

Your own 

Marjorie. 

To John M. Dillon 

Hotel Chatham, Paris, 

Sunday, September 27, 1891. 
Dear Pod : 

I wrote you a few days ago, and told you I would 

send Miss Clancy's wedding-handkerchief. I do so 

371 



Hnna price Billon 



in this letter. Give it to Harry Hubbard to give to 
his fiancee, with my best wishes. I should have had 
her name embroidered on it if I had known it in full. 
I suppose that you are still in the West somewhere, 
and this letter will reach New York almost as soon as 
you do. I shall go as soon as I am well enough, and 
buy the things for you that I have promised. I have 
been shut up in my room nearly ever since I arrived. 
To-day is cold and cloudy, and I fear it will post- 
pone my outgoing. What are you to give Hubbard 
for a wedding present ? I wish I were there to help 
choose it. 

Very affectionately, 

Mama. 

To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Paris, September 29, 1891. 
My dear Pard : 

Your letters have always cheered and often exhil- 
arated me. The description of the people and dresses 
at a certain gathering did me more good than all the 
douches I have taken. 

I don't want any papering done till I get back, 
unless it is in Marie and Maggie's room. My room 
does not need new paper. I don't intend to touch it. 
As for the dining-room paper, I claim the exclusive 
right to select that, and the old gentleman can't med- 
dle with it. Don't have any carpets taken up except 
on the fourth floor. I will try to get a rug here, and 
then I '11 make the changes in the carpets myself. 
372 



jflfeemoir anfc /Ifoemoriais 



You are very good to take the interest in my house 
that you do, and some day I '11 repay you, if I can, 
Pardie. I shall be sorry not to have you this winter, 
if you come to Europe; sorry for myself, and glad 
for you. . . . 

Pappy writes that he is quite comfortable, but the 
pain in his side continues. He thinks he will never 
get over it. I must now close my letter; but before, 
let me tell you that if it is a fixed thing that John's 
is an evening wedding, let Marie get out my gray- 
and- white brocade, and keep it covered, but get the 
wrinkles out. 

Love to Annie, and much for you, from 

Your own 

Marjorie. 

To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

[Paris], Friday, October 16, 1891. 
My dear Pard : 

I had a lovely letter from you this week, and I 've 
read it twice. You shall have your things. I think 
I can get you a dress for the wedding; at least, I will 
go to-morrow and try. You will be sorry to hear 
that I am going to leave Susie over here for two 
months with the Leeches. I regret to go home with- 
out her, but she is not well and has frightful head- 
aches. Two weeks from to-day we (Mrs. Holmes and 
I) leave for home. I hope we will have fair skies and 
smooth seas, or else I shall get in too late for the 
wedding. "Will you write Miss Skelly that you want 
373 



Hnna price Billon 



her to dress our hair for us on that occasion ? Don't 
forget it. Speak in time. 

Always devotedly your 

Pard. 

To Mrs. Bills 

New York, January 4, 1892. 

... I came home November 9, the day before 

John's wedding, and a more cadaverous old lady you 

could seldom find. I was very ill during all my stay 

in Aix, but better than last winter. Susie nursed me 

faithfully and patiently, and looked the worse for it. 

When friends who live in Paris begged me to lend 

them Susie for the winter, I thought it was all right to 

do so. I have frequent letters from her, and she is 

having a good time. . . . 

A. P. D. 

In June, 1892, Mrs. Dillon and her daughter Annie 
left New York for Carlsbad, as stated in the beginning 
of this chapter, 1 and the letters which follow were 
written during the sojourn in Europe in 1892. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, June 23, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

Your letter of Sunday the 12th has just reached me. 

You seem to be having unusually hot weather in 

New York, while here it is delightful during the day, 

and cold enough at night to have a little wood-fire. 

i See p. 351. 

374 



/iDemotr anfc> flDemorials 



We are more and more pleased with our apartment. 
There is no worrying and fretting about marketing ; 
after a consultation with the cook in the morning she 
goes to market, and then every Saturday night we 
have the bills for the week. The Godfreys of New 
York are here. They have taken an apartment for 
the winter on the Avenue de l'Alma, and expect to 
make a trip to Egypt sometime during the year. 
Theodore Sterling 1 goes to Carlsbad next week; we 
leave for that place on the 13th of July, and will stay 
about five weeks. I have taken this apartment for a 
year, so will return to it late in August. 

I suppose you are in New Orleans to-night, and no 
doubt you are warm enough. How is John? Give 
him my love. I always think of him when I am 
handling Susie Sterling's baby, for it has a little 
round head covered with dark hair, and I shut my 
eyes and imagine I am back again where I was 
twenty-four years ago. Susie is devoted to her boy. 
The Leeches have taken their apartment for another 
year; they leave next week for Wiesbaden. 
Very affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

12 Rue Pierre Charron, Paris, July 11, 1892, 
Dear Judge: 

I am to-day in receipt of yours of July 1. I start 
for Carlsbad Wednesday evening; will stay two 

1 Husband of Susie Price. 
375 



Hnna price Billon 



days in Nuremberg, and reach Carlsbad on the 16th, 
where I shall be until the 20th of August. I would 
rather remain here. It is not too hot, and our flat 
is delightful. I will never live in a house again, 
and shall stay here long enough to give you a chance 
to sell the house and get a flat; then I '11 go home. 
Why don't you and Hymie come over this autumn 
for a jaunt ? Make me a visit, and go down to Eome. 
We will treat you beautifully. 

Susie's baby is named Theodore W. Sterling, Jr. 
He is a beautiful boy, and looks just as she did when 
that size. Mary Price is with her still, and does not 
know when she will go— possibly when Theodore gets 
back from Carlsbad. I did not give the number of 
our apartment for the reason that I think it safer to 
have my letters go to the bank. It is 12 Rue Pierre 
Charron, and is not far from the Eiffel Tower and 
the Trocadero. 

The new American minister, Mr. Coolidge, is not 
very far away, being at 58 Avenue Marceau. He held 
a grand reception on the Fourth of July at the Hotel 
Continental (he had not moved into his house), and we 
went. There were many Americans there, among them 
the Warders of Washington, who are on their way to 
Yichy. Mr. Coolidge was assisted in receiving by his 
daughter; but I think I told you all that before. 
However, on Saturday morning Mr. Coolidge called 
on us, and offered us his carriage for a drive in the 
Bois. Of course we accepted it, and as we went bowl- 
ing through the Bois behind his high-steppers and the 
376 



rt&emoir an& jflfcemorials 



men on the box with red, white, and blue cockades on 
their hats, the French public stopped and stared, 
thinking they saw the family of the new American 
minister. I have told you all I know, so will close 
this letter. It will then catch the Club Train that 
leaves at twelve to-night, and be on board the Majestic 
Tuesday night. I am sending to America by this 
mail letters to you, Hymie, John, and Pappy. 
Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The next letter and the two following were written 
by Mrs. Dillon at Carlsbad. They will be better 
understood by the extracts from the husband's let- 
ters which are given in the note. x 

i New York, July 1, 1892. 
Dear Wife : 

... I am in the midst of preparation to start on my Western trip. 
I shall leave to-morrow and reach Marquette Tuesday. Hiram expects 
to meet me in Chicago Sunday, and bring Jack with him. I presume I 
shall be in Marquette until July 12. I am due in New Orleans July 
20, en route to Texas. Practically, I shall be absent from New York 
all of July, as I have two cases in Marquette, and the Texas Railway 
Commission case in Texas. . „ . 

Affectionately yours, 

J. F. D. 

Dallas, Texas, July 24, 1892. 
Dear Wife : 

I wrote you last Sunday from Hymie 's home in Topeka. I started 
from there last Monday, and reached Dallas Tuesday noon. There 
is great heat throughout the country, from 96° to 98° in Kansas, 
and over 100° in Texas. Dallas has about fifty thousand people. The 
hotel is miserable ; the mosquitos are ravenous, the cockroaches over- 
run everything, and we found them at times in our food. I made my 
argument of four hours, with the mercury at 96°, and Sunday night 
was taken ill. Two others of our party have been ill at Dallas, where 
the heat is intense and the water is bad. Our case will not close before 
Wednesday or Thursday. When I get to New York I shall have been 

377 



Bnna price Dillon 



To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, July 27, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

Your letter from Marquette came on Friday last. I 
presume that by this time you are back in New York, 
and probably find it cool after the heat of Texas and 
Louisiana. "We are beginning now to have it cool. 
To-day is one of the loveliest I ever saw. The place is 
full to overflowing; lots of Americans and lots of 
royalty, but to me they (royalty) all look Deutsche. 
The other night two tall old men came into Pupp's, 
and sat at the table next to us. Somebody whispered 
to Susie who they were, and she, as soon as it was 
practicable, informed me that they were Prince Atten- 
burg and Count Somebody, and wanted to know if I 
had seen "their Majesties," and I replied, "No; I 
saw only two old gray Deutschers eating with their 
fingers," which quite disgusted all the bystanders, 
who admire and take off their hats to nobility. I 'm 
glad you enjoyed your visit to Marquette. I, or rather 
we, are going to Bayreuth for two days. We shall go 
sometime next week, and stay two days to hear ' ' Par- 
sifal ' ' and ' ' Tristan and Isolde. ' ' I shall write 

gone just one month, and a hard month, especially the latter half of it. 
If all goes well, as I expect, I shall he home Sunday, and my next letter 
to you will be from there. I shall spend two or three weeks at Saratoga 
betbre, at, and after the American Bar Association, which meets there 
August 24-26. I have done nothing as yet toward the preparation of 
my address. . . . Affectionately yours, 

J. F. D. 

378 



flDemoir anb jflDemoriais 



Hymie and Jack very soon, but really there is very 
little time to write. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, August 3, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

Your letter written from Topeka came in due time ; 
it reached me yesterday. I presume by this time 
you are back in New York, and, from what the pa- 
pers say, find it as hot as it was in Texas. How are 
you since your return, and how did you stand the 
journey ? If I am well enough when I finish my 
cure here, I shall go for a day or two to Innspruck in 
the Tyrol. I can go to Munich in twelve or sixteen 
hours, and then it is only a short pull to Innspruck, 
so I think I '11 do it, and then we can go home by 
way of Geneva. Yesterday the girls walked to Ste- 
phanie's Thurm, which stands on the highest hill 
that looks down on Carlsbad. I am not allowed to 
walk, so took a donkey-cart and rode beside them. 
We had a sort of dinner there, and then came down. 
There is the finest view from that point that I ever 
saw. To-morrow we take the omnibus that goes to 
Pirkenhammer; will dine there, and see the porcelain- 
works. .. . . 

A. P. D. 

379 



Bnna price Billon 



To John F. Dillon 

Carlsbad, August 14, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

The letter you commenced in the train while en 
route for New York, and finished when you arrived, 
came last night. The one you wrote in Texas was 
received, and answered immediately. I am glad you 
are again at home, and no worse for the trip. I think 
no sane man would have ever consented to do such a 
thing for any amount of money. For a long time at 
this season of the year I have watched you, and have 
seen unmistakable signs of insanity in you where work 
is concerned. It is not with you as with other men, 
who work hard, and then relax perfectly, and try to 
regain by absolute rest what has been lost by appli- 
cation and great strain upon the brain. After you 
have accomplished some stupendous undertaking, 
instead of the rest you require, which should be ob- 
tained by a change of air, climate, and scenery, you 
at once jump into something else harder and de- 
manding more work than what you have just fin- 
ished; then you pitifully say you " find you can't 
stand what you once stood." Is it any wonder? 
You have never known the respite from work and 
thought that aids in keeping other men well and 
strong, and fully able to tussle with the world. Hy- 
mie and I long ago concluded that work was your 
recreation, and that we might as well let you alone. 
380 



/iDemoir anb /IDemoriate 



I am worn out. Dr. Kraus tells me to live quietly, 
and allow nothing to worry me. He says mine is a 
very stubborn malady, and even if I am ever cured I 
will never be strong again. I must now close this 
letter so that it will catch the next steamer from 
Bremerhaven. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The letters which follow were written after the 
return to Paris from Carlsbad. 

To John F. Dillon 

12 Rue Pierre Charron, Paris, 
September 2, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

I had just written to John in answer to a cablegram 
saying he had a daughter born, when the girls came 
in bringing your two letters. I really enjoyed the 
Saratoga news you gave me, and am glad all my 
friends are well. I wrote you a long letter from Ge- 
neva, and sent you some photos. I am sorry, now 
that there are fears of cholera coming here, that I 
did not stay longer in Geneva. The Sterlings are in 
Vevey, and will stay there a month longer. 

Paris is crowded with Americans, and still they 
come from all parts of the Continent to buy clothes 
and go home. It is a pretty bad outlook if they have 
to stop outside the city for twenty days for fumi- 
gation. 

381 



Buna price Dillon 



Hymie writes that he does not see his way clear to 
come to Europe before the middle of December, so I 
suppose I need make no calculation on seeing any 
one of you before the spring. I will look around 
and send something to John's baby. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

[12 Eue Pierre Charron, Paris], 
Friday, September 6, 1892. 
Dear Pardie : 

I am sorry to hear from Susie's letter that you do 
not expect to return to Paris until the 1st of October. 
It is lovely here now— warm enough, and the sun shines 
with just heat sufficient to make you glad. ... I 
am not at all well to-day; went out yesterday and 
fatigued myself, so I am now doing penance. My 
errand was to get a cloak for the new baby, and I 
did it, and am now looking for some one to take 
it home for me. Mrs. Scott Cameron is here, and 
as she is very fond of Lucy I think she will under- 
take it. 

I hope I won't have to go back to New York this 
fall, but Doc is writing some very saucy letters, and 
while they won't take me back, they do make me un- 
easy. Tell Susie Sterling that since I wrote her I 
have bought an Empire bureau and dressing-case like 
hers, and a bedstead. I hope she won't be put out with 
382 



/iDemoit anfc /libemottals 



me for copying her. Give my love to the Sterlings, 
and believe me, 

Always your own 

Marjorie. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, September 24, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

I came back from Fontainebleau last evening, and 
found a letter from you and one from John, both 
written on the 12th. Your letter is full of precautions 
about cholera ; I assure you there is much more said 
in Paris about cholera in New York than there is about 
cholera in Paris itself. I watch the two papers which I 
take, the " Herald " and the " Figaro, 1 ' carefully, and, 
unless they are mistaken, there is little or no cholera 
here. The people on the coach yesterday were all 
French of the upper class, and at all the eating-places 
where we stopped for meals they ate fruit plentifully, 
and when I asked if they were not afraid of cholera, 
they laughed and said, "There is no cholera, except 
among the poor who have nothing to eat. ' ' 

Of course I appreciate fully the danger of its break- 
ing out anywhere, and when I see and know that 
Americans are fleeing from Paris, I will take up the 
line of march, too. This city is full of Americans, and 
they do not seem in a hurry to get away, as they say 
it is the only clean place they know of in this country. 
I suppose the Augusta Victoria will arrive in New 
York to-day ; I am anxious to hear what you think of 
383 



Hnna price Billon 



the things I have sent. Theodore Sterling is still in 
Switzerland. Love to John. 

Ever affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To John F. Dillon 

Paris, September, 1892. 
Dear Judge : 

I was put to it to know what little thing to send 
you, so I settled on a knife, a pair of shears for your 
whiskers, and a watch-rest ; the rest can be adjusted 
(by means of the ring on the back) to stand at an 
angle of 45° and thus hold the watch just in right 
position to strike the eye. The little book [Long- 
fellow's " Nuremberg"] I knew would please you, 
and at the same time remind you of the delightful old 
city. It was so hot there when I came through from 
Carlsbad that I saw but little of it, though at night 
and by starlight we drove to the Schone Brunnen, and 
I took a drink, for fear I '11 never be there again. 1 
Very affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

1 To this letter of Mrs. Dillon's, which was received September 28, her 
husband refers in the following : 

New York, October 2, 1892. 
Dear Wife : 

John and I have just returned from St. Bartholomew's Church, and 
in the interval before dinner I commence this letter. Annie Price 
[wife of Mrs. Dillon's brother William H. Price] and family left yester- 
day. There is nothing visible in the house to show that they were here. 
It seemed strange, on coming home last night to miss them all. 

Yesterday afternoon Hymie telegraphed that he would leave Topeka 
that day and be in New York on Monday evening. He did not want to 
come, and only comes because the duties of his master's office require it. 

384 



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/iDemotr anfc /Ifcemortals 



The three following letters, somewhat widely sepa- 
rated in point of time, refer to Mrs. Dillon's sojourn in 
Paris and preparations for coming home. 

To Mrs. Bills 

12 Kue Pierre Charron, 

Paris, October 23, 1892. 
Dear Friend : 

. . . When I came back from Carlsbad to Paris, I 
was surprised to hear that cholera was prevailing. 
My husband wrote me in dismay to flee to the moun- 
tains of Switzerland ; but the Swiss had heard about 
the epidemic, and had thrown up barriers around 
their beloved country, so that I could not enter. To 
go forward was certain death, for New York was full 

I have seen John's watch ; it is very handsome, and he says it keeps 
perfect time ; I do not, however, think it any handsomer or better than 
the one you gave me twenty years ago. 

John brought down with him my knife, shears, watch-rest, and the 
little book containing Longfellow's poem on Nuremberg, which you 
were so thoughtful and kind as to send me. They are all very accept- 
able; I re-read the poem, and by its aid recalled our visit to those 
famous churches, buildings, etc., nine years ago. I then drank at the 
Sen one Brunnen, but I have not yet been back, and maybe I never shall. 
I have pasted your letter in the book as a memorial. . . . 

Affectionately yours, 

J. F. D. 

The following is taken from a letter written to Mrs. Dillon by her 
son John: 

New York, October 3, 1892. 
My dear Mama : 

. . . Last night papa read Longfellow's " Nuremberg " to Lucy and 
me ; all about Hans Sachs, Albrecht Diirer, and the pyx in St. Lawrence. 
The picture will please him, as he is much interested in that city and the 
old " chaps " who lived there. . . . 

I am your loving son, 

Poddie. 

385. 



Hnna price Billon 



of pest-ships ; so, like the children of Israel when sore 
pressed by Pharaoh, and with the Red Sea roaring be- 
fore them, I could only stand still and see the salva- 
tion of the Lord. I wrote my dear old father not to 
worry about us, as there was no cholera in our neigh- 
borhood. I have a little apartment out near the Palace 
of the Trocadero, and I am anxiously awaiting my 
husband's arrival. 

John Dillon (my baby) had a daughter born to him 
about six weeks ago, so I am adjusting my cap-strings 
anew. My niece Susie Sterling lives near me, and 
has a son six months old, who is the delight of his 
father. Susie Dillon is still my factotum. We could n't 
live without her. She does everything for everybody. 
I shall be in Paris until the spring. I have been coax- 
ing my husband to come and get me, but I am so far 
unable to get a promise from him ; I fear that I shall 
have to give up the idea, and go home alone and 
acknowledge myself beaten. . . . 

A. P. D. 

To Hiram Price 

12 Rue Pierre Charron, Paris, 
February 3, 1893. 
Dear Pappy : 

I have just received your letter of January 23. I 
wrote you about the same date, and you doubtless 
have the letter by this time. I did not write the 
bank in Davenport giving my views of contemplated 
improvements, but now that I know how you regard 
386 



flDemofr anfc /iDemorials 



it I shall do so, and that right speedily. I would like 
to have my dividend every three months, for I could 
make more out of it by spending it here ; lots of nice 
things for half what we pay at home, and as I don't 
believe I shall ever be here again, I want to make good 
use of my opportunities. I often think of the answer 
made by Lord Clive to Parliament, when accused of 
receiving vast sums of public moneys while in India : 
4 ' My God ! when I think of my opportunities, I stand 
astonished at my own moderation ! " So it is with 
me; and when I see curtains, furniture, laces, gowns, 
and bonnets exhibited here for much less than at home, 
I would like a little of what some of those rich people 
in New York don't need. One woman here recently 
had thirty dresses made at one place. Now, for giv- 
ing expression to some wishes uttered above I expect 
you to give me a good lecture in your next letter. 

Very affectionately, 

Sis. 

A letter to Mrs. Dillon from her husband, is given 
in the note, as it will make more intelligible some of 
Mrs. Dillon's allusions in the following letter. 1 

1 195 Broadway, New York, March 14, 1893. 
My dear Wife : 

We are all well now except John. The baby is flourishing and has 
a new tooth. I don't know whether this important matter has been 
mentioned to you. I went last week to a party at Mrs. Downing's, 
and last night attended a dinner of about ten lawyers, given by our 
neighbor Wheeler H. Peckham. I am expecting any day to be called 
to Washington on a case in the Supreme Court. If I am here on Mon- 
day I shall go to Mrs. Ely's birthday dinner . It looks probable n ow that 
I shall have to go to St. Paul and Little Rock to argue cases the first two 
weeks in May — not yet sure. 

But if you sail on the 15th of April I shall surely be here to meet you. 

387- 



Hnna iprice 5)illon 



To John F. Dillon 

Paris. April 14. 1S93. 
Dear Judge : 

I have had no letter from home since I last wrote. 
I am about ready to leave. Susie Sterling has had my 
furniture packed with hers, but as soon as I received 
your letter urging me to bring it nryself . I went up to 
see her and had it separated. Susie Sterling is going 
home, but not with me. 

I have now something to tell you : Don't try to come 
down the bay to meet us. It will be too cold and 
raw. It is time enough to start to the pier when you 
hear the steamer has passed quarantine. I don't 
want you standing first on one foot and then on the 
other in that cold place, waiting for the ship. Sup- 
pose you don't get there until after the ship lands 
her passengers: we will not go ashore till you ar- 
rive. Remember, now, don't come down on that 
revenue cutter; it is too cold. In great haste, 
Ever affectionately yours. 

Anna P. Dillon. 



I shall be so happy to have yon all home once more. I presume we 
shall hare new custom-house officers by that rime, and I do not know 
whether I can get the courtesies of the port and go ont on a revenue 
cutter to meet you as I did before. 

I hare been hard at work for a month on the manuscript for my Yale 
Lectures, and it is nearly ready for the printer. This is my las: book 
and it will be dedicated to you. l My office arrangements are working 
smoothly. I am as busy as ever. 

Affectionately yours. 

Joh>- F. Drxxox. 



See Chapter I, p. 



363 



/ifcemoir anfc flDemotials 



Mrs. Dillon and her daughters reached New York in 
the latter part of April, 1893, and remained there 
until June, when the family visited the World's Fair, 
Alaska, and California, as shown in the next chapter. 

The present chapter concludes with a short letter 
from Mrs. Dillon, which is given simply as an illus- 
tration of her ever- watchful and tender care for her 
aged and revered father. 

To Hiram Price 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
October 11, 1893. 
Dear Pappy : 

I reached home, on leaving you in Washington, 
Monday at five o'clock. I found plenty to do when I 
arrived here, and have been hard at it ever since, try- 
ing to piece out old carpets and make them do a little 
longer. I went down- town this morning, and found at 
Stern's the nicest woolen underwear I have ever seen. 
I have sent you two suits on approval. The colored 
ones are a little softer. You will readily see that they 
are part silk, which prevents their scratching, and in 
a measure prevents shrinking. You will let me know 
which to get for you, and return the suit or suits you 
don't want. I will attend to it at once. Please send 
address of " Granola." You see the other " old gen- 
tleman ' ' has come to it. I will send the other things 
to your help as soon as I can. 

Affectionately, 

Sis. 
389- 



CHAPTER X 

VISIT TO THE WORLD'S FAIR, ALASKA, AND CALIFORNIA 

1893 

Visit to Columbian World's Fair — Davenport — Leafland — Visits to 
Mrs. Bills, Mrs. Silsbee, Mrs. Wing, Mrs. Barnard, and Mrs. Kauf- 
man—Journey to the Pacific coast, Alaska, California, and Colorado. 

LETTERS TO MRS. MARY PRICE, MRS. BILLS, AND 
HIRAM PRICE 

P|RS. DILLON returned from Europe to New 
York in April, 1893, as related in the last 
chapter, and went to her New York house. 
On June 10, 1893, Mrs. Dillon and her husband, to- 
gether with their daughters Susie and Annie, and their 
son John and his wife and child, started from Jersey 
City to see the Columbian World's Fair at Chicago, and 
thence to visit Alaska and California. They were 
joined at Chicago by their son Hiram and his wife and 
son. After remaining two weeks at the Exposition, the 
party took their car and proceeded, via Davenport, 
Omaha (with a detour to Lincoln, Nebraska), and Salt 
390 




/Ifoemoir ant) /iDemorials 



Lake City, to Tacoma. There the party embarked on 
the steamer Queen, July 8, for Alaska, returning on the 
same vessel to Tacoma, July 18. At Davenport Mrs. 
Dillon had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Bills and 
other friends, and at Lincoln of visiting Mrs. Wing, 
and at Omaha of meeting Mrs. Silsbee and Mrs. Bar- 
nard. 

After returning to Tacoma, the party visited Port- 
land, San Francisco, and Monterey, and came back via 
G-lenwood Springs and Denver, reaching New York 
the 13th of August. In San Francisco Mrs. Dillon 
visited her valued friend Mrs. Kaufman. 

The scenery in Alaska, especially the grand Muir 
Glacier, extending out into the deep sea, a frozen 
Niagara, wondrously beautiful in its iridescent 
splendor, made upon Mrs. Dillon a profound and last- 
ing impression. The milder beauties of California, 
particularly its fruits and flowers, were also a source 
of novel and real enjoyment. 

The letters in this chapter were written on board 
the car, the steamer, or at hotels, or as occasion off- 
ered. Although none of them was intended as a full 
description of her trip, yet, taken together, they 
present a very satisfactory picture of it, and of the 
pleasure she derived not only from the interesting 
objects of art and nature which she saw, but from the 
opportunity it afforded of visiting some of her dearest 
and most intimate friends of other days. With 
respect to most of them it proved to be the last 
visit. 

391. 



Hnna price Billon 



To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Auditorium Hotel, Chicago, June 26, 1893. 
Dear Pardie : 

It is just seven o'clock this Monday morning, and 
while I wait for my breakfast to come up I write only a 
note to tell you that your letter came, and was a good 
one, just like yourself. We have had a fortnight 
here, and the weather has been delightful. We have 
gone nearly every day to the Fair. I should like to 
do so for the whole summer. There is something 
in the " White City " that makes one forget the sor- 
rows and cares which the heart bears— something 
that brings one in contact with and in contemplation 
of the beautiful. The architecture has been pro- 
nounced the very finest, and as the chief architect has 
recently been honored with a degree from the London 
Society of Architects, there must be something un- 
usual in it. England thinks long before she bestows 
honors abroad. 

We are to pull out of this city with our car to-day. 
We go to Davenport to visit Mrs. Bills and see my 
friends; from thence to Omaha, and there make a 
detour of fifty miles to Lincoln, to visit Mrs. Wing. I 
wish you were along with us; but you 're not, and 
can't be, and I make no moan. Do not, I pray you, 
fail to write me. . . . With love, 

Your own 

Marjorie. 

392 



flDemoir anb /l&emorials 



Mrs. Dillon visited her friends at Davenport, and 
soon after leaving that place, and while the memory 
of her visit was fresh and dewy, she dropped to Mrs. 
Bills the hurried note from which the extract next 
given is taken. 



To Mrs. Bills 

On car en route "West, 
July 1, 1893. 
My dear Friend: 

We are now running at the rate of forty miles an 
hour toward Ogden. We left Omaha yesterday. 
Thursday I spent with Mrs. Wing. Our car was taken 
down to Lincoln, and waited for us while we visited. 
I found her looking well, and we had a delightful day. 
I feel so much better for having seen you all that I 
believe the tenor of my life will flow more evenly and 
more serenely. I shall never forget the day we spent 
together, the drive over the bluffs and the beau- 
tiful country. I look forward to a repetition of it 
sometime in the near future. . . . 

A. P. D. 

To Hiram Price 

On the car, Thursday, July 6, 1893. 
Dear Pappy : 

We are now within twelve hours of Tacoma. We left 
Chicago on Monday, the 26th of June, and spent two 
393 



Hnna price milon 



days in Davenport ; on Wednesday night we went 
through to Omaha, and divided two days between 
that place and Lincoln. We then came to Salt Lake 
City, arriving there Sunday morning. Monday we 
started on our long journey to Portland, and were 
fast approaching the boundary line between Idaho 
and Oregon, when the engineer discovered that the 
bridge (five hundred feet long and fifty feet high) was 
on fire ; the river was the Burnt River, and the bridge 
was near the town of Huntington in Oregon. We lay 
over for a few hours, and were then told that it would 
take three or four days to repair the bridge, so we 
had either to wait that length of time or go back sev- 
eral hundred miles to the town of Pocatello, and there 
transfer our car to the Northern Pacific road. This 
we did, and are now fast approaching Tacoma. We 
are to take the steamer at that place Saturday morn- 
ing, and be on the water for two weeks, when we shall 
be back in Tacoma. Write me there in care of Hotel 
Tacoma, and I will get the letter before I start for 
Glenwood, Colorado, where John expects to take the 
baths for his rheumatism. I hope to hear that you 
are well. The car is going very fast and is jolting 
and jumping, so I must stop writing. 

Very affectionately, 

Sis. 

The next, written from Tacoma, describes the 
journey to that city, and incidentally Mrs. Dillon's 
visit to the ruins of Leafland, which had been de- 
394 



/IDemoit anfc /iDemorials 



stroyed by fire, and the saddened feelings which it 
occasioned. 



To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

The Tacoma, Tacoma, Washington, 
July 7, 1893. 
Dear Pardie : 

We reached here this morning at three o'clock, and 
stopped in our car until seven, when we came to this 
hotel to arrange for our steamer voyage by repack- 
ing trunks and resting a little. We stayed two days 
in Davenport, which time I spent with Mrs. Bills. 
We had many happy hours together, talking over old 
times, and promising ourselves much pleasure in a 
visit which she hopes to make me next winter. 

I had many calls from old friends, drove through 
the town, and visited the site of my old home, Leaf- 
land. The house is gone. 1 A few shrubs and trees of 
my own planting remain, but even on them, in un- 
mistakable characters, is written " Ichabod." I need 
not tell you how my heart ached. Mrs. Bills allowed 
me, with her usual good judgment and delicacy of 
feeling, to wander around over the ruins alone. Shall 
I ever again be as happy as I was there ? To be sure, 
the pleasure was not entirely unalloyed, but far, far 
greater than I have ever had since. 

From Davenport we went to Omaha and then ran 

l Having been destroyed by fire. 
395 



Hnna price Billon 



down with our car to Lincoln to see Mrs. Wing. She 
has been ill for two years. The judge and I stopped 
with her during our stay, while the others remained 
in the car, though all were invited to and partook of 
an excellent supper of fried chicken, Saratoga pota- 
toes, hot rolls, old-fashioned sweet-pickled peaches, 
ice-cream, strawberries, and the most delicious cake 
I ever ate. 

"We ran back to Omaha, and there I found my old 
friends Mrs. Silsbee and Mrs. Barnard. They were 
delighted to see me. 

On the morning of July 2 we were in Salt Lake 
City. We went out to Garfield Beach, and had a de- 
lightful swim in Salt Lake, afterward lunched, and 
then returned to the city. Monday morning we left for 
Portland. We ran along very well for four hundred 
miles, and when within a mile of Huntington we 
came to a burning bridge. The engineer saw the fire, 
which was at the farther end, just in time to save 
the train. We returned to Pocatello, where we got 
transportation for our car over the Northern Pacific, 
and then started again for Tacoma. As this accident 
took the two days that we had expected to spend in 
Portland, we gave up going there and came directly 
to Tacoma. 

This is one of the most beautiful towns I have ever 
seen— handsome residences with perfect lawns, and 
flowers such as I have never elsewhere beheld; 
roses— La France, Prairie Queen, Baltimore Belle- 
trimmed like trees, and in extravagant profusion. 
396 



flDemoir anfc Memorials 



Some of them are six inches in diameter! Did you 
ever hear of such floral gorgeousness ? I confess it sur- 
passes anything I have ever seen. The climate is hea- 
venly—rarely, we are told, below 40° in winter, or 
higher than 80° in summer. I would like to live 
here. But now they are calling me to go to dinner, 
and this evening we take the steamer. I will finish 
to-morrow and mail to you from Victoria. 

Saturday evening. 
We took the steamer Queen last night, and set sail 
this morning at f our o ' clock . I awoke at seven o ' clock 
and found we had reached the city of Seattle, which, 
after the disastrous fire, sits phenix-like on a beautiful 
bluff overlooking the sound. We shall be in Victoria 
at 5 p. m. We expect to be out on the water twelve or 
fifteen days, and then to be again in Tacoma and Port- 
land for a short time. We intend to go to Glenwood 
Springs, Colorado, for John's cure. Poor fellow! for 
several days after we left he could not walk a step. 
He is now better. We are all well. I love you, 
Pardie. Good-by for the present. 

Always affectionately, 

Marjorie. 

The next letter was written to Mrs. Dillon's father 
in Washington, D. C, during the outward voyage; 
and the one following, written on her return to Port- 
land to Mrs. Mary Price, expresses her great satis- 
faction with the trip to Alaska. 
397 



Hnna price Billon 



To Hiram Price 



On board Alaska excursion steamship Queen, 
July 10, 1893. 
Dear Pappy : 

We sailed from Tacoma on Saturday morning early. 
Our first stop was at Seattle. It has been rebuilt 
since the fire, and is a fine city, though by no means 
so beautiful as Tacoma. Our next stop was Port 
Townsend. Then we came into British Columbia. 
Victoria is its largest city. We rode through it, and 
found it far inferior to any of the other Pacific coast 
places we had seen. 

We are to-night at St. Mary's Island, the first stop 
in Alaska. We are anchored out in the bay. Our 
captain has gone ashore in a small boat to report his 
ship to the authorities. We are to be at Fort Wran- 
gel to-morrow at 7 a.m., where I shall mail this letter, 
in the hope that a returning steamer will pick it up 
and carry it to the land of railroads and steam-cars. 

We have so far had a delightful trip. I regret 
every day that you did not come with us. We 
expect to be in Tacoma on the return voyage on the 
20th inst., and at Portland on the 24th. If you 
write me in care of Hotel Tacoma, or to Portland in 
care of W. W. Cotton, I shall get the letter. I would 
like to know how you are. It is now ten o'clock and 
still quite light. We are so far north that the sun does 
not disappear until after eight o'clock. We are sur- 
398 



flDemotr anfc /IDemorials 



rounded by snow mountains; I have never seen any- 
thing so grand. It " beats " Europe altogether. 

Very affectionately, 

Sis. 

The next letter was written at Portland after the 
return voyage. 

To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

The Portland, Portland, Oregon, 
Thursday, July 20, 1893. 
My dear Pardie : 

I have this moment received yours of the 14th 
inst. We reached here last night, and are this far on 
our way homeward. Judge Dillon told me yesterday 
that we would go to Monterey and San Francisco 
after leaving here, so we start for those places 
to-morrow night, and shall be in California for a week. 
How I wish I had your mother's address, so that, if 
possible, I could see her. 

We have seen Alaska, and are happy in having 
done so, for it is the grandest country I have ever 
beheld. Not half has been told of its wonders and 
glory. I hope it may be my good fortune to go back 
some day, and stay until my thirst for what I found 
there is fully sated. 

You do not say one word about Susie Sterling's 
baby. How is his Preciousness? Do you think he 
would know his own Aunt Annie if he were to see 
her again? Our baby grows sweeter and lovelier 

399 



Hnna price Dillon 



every day. 1 From your letter I gather that you 
will be in California just after I get through my visit 
there. What a fate is this, that brings us so near and 
yet keeps us so far apart! So you are going to the 
great Columbian Fair! "Well, I am glad, though I 
wanted to be there with you. 

From Calif ornia we make a straight journey to Glen- 
wood Springs, and stay there until John tries the 
virtue of those waters. When am I to see you again? 
is the question before me now, and about the only one 
that presents itself that I cannot in some way answer. 
When I get back home I shall miss you, Pardie, more 
than I can tell— miss you coming up-stairs and steal- 
ing into my room unannounced to give me a good 
hug and kiss. I shall be lonely enough, many and 
many a time. But you will come home again, I know, 
and so I comfort my heart. Susie and Annie send 
love. 

Affectionately your own 

Marjoree. 

The letter which follows was written by Mrs. Dillon 
to her father from the Hotel del Monte, near Monterey, 
California, where the party remained for some days, 
enjoying the society of their friends Mr. J. Parker 
Whitney and his wife, in making various excursions 
in this picturesque region. As her father had for- 
merly been the commissioner of Indian affairs, 2 Mrs. 

1 The little daughter of her son John — the one whose death is men- 
tioned in the next chapter. 

2 See Chapter I, p. 3. 

400 



/IDemoir anfc /IDemorials 



Dillon doubtless thought he would be interested in 
what she said concerning the Indians of Alaska. 

To Hiram Price 

Hotel del Monte, Monterey, California, 

July 26, 1893. 
Dear Pappy : 

We are this far on our way homeward. When we 
reached Tacoma last Tuesday week I received your 
letter of the 13th inst., in answer to one I wrote you 
before sailing for the ice regions. We left Tacoma 
July 8 and returned on the 18th. In those ten days 
I saw the most wonderful and beautiful country I had 
ever beheld. We went as far north as Chilkat, but 
stopped there only an hour or so. We then visited 
Sitka, and stayed long enough for some of the pas- 
sengers to go fishing; in two or three hours they 
brought in one hundred and fifty pounds of halibut. 

We saw many Indians. They seemed happy and 
industrious. They looked upon us as great curiosities, 
and such they were to us. We saw, in Sitka, the 
school established by the Eev. Dr. Sheldon Jackson, 
and for the accommodation of which Elliot F. Shep- 
ard built quite a commodious house. 

We came here a week ago, and shall leave in a few 
days for Glenwood Springs, Colorado, where we shall 
be for two or three weeks. We shall reach home 
about the first week in September. 

Very affectionately, 

Sis. 

401. 



Bnna price Dillon 



The two next letters were written from the Plaza 
Hotel, New York, where the family, on their return, 
were temporarily stopping while 671 Madison Avenue 
was undergoing repairs. They are self-explanatory, 
and bring to a close the relation left by Mrs. Dillon of 
her Columbian World's Fair, Alaska, and California 
trip. 

To Mrs. Mary von T. Price 

Plaza Hotel, New York, August 18, 1893. 
My dear Pardie : 

It is true, I do owe you two full several letters, and 
you have been in my mind constantly, not only since 
I returned, but during my long journeyings. I 
thought once I would go up to Redwood and stop 
over a day on my way to Frisco, but thought again 
your mother might not be there, and I should have 
my labor for my reward, so I abandoned the notion, 
but not without regret, I assure you. Susie and Annie 
and I visited Mrs. Kaufman for two and a half days. 
I am looking forward to your coming to New York. 
Our house, 671 Madison Avenue, is being fitted up 
anew— papered, frescoed, painted, and with an elec- 
tric elevator. Your room will be lovely, and I expect 
you to come from St. Louis to stay in it awhile. I 
shall be as happy with you as of yore. There, I have 
blotted this letter, but it must go as it is; if I wait to 
rewrite, it will never get off. 

Affectionately your 

Marjorie. 

402 



/iDemoir arib /iDemoriais 



To Mrs. Bills 



Plaza Hotel, New York, August 25, 1893. 
My dear Friend : 

Doubtless a letter from me written in New York 
will be a surprise to you, for I am myself astonished 
to be here so early in the season. 

We made our trip to Alaska and California, and 
had just settled in Glen wood, Colorado, for a consider- 
able stay, when despatches summoned my husband 
home to look after crashing banks and collapsing rail- 
roads. So urgent were the calls to return that in 
less than twelve hours after the first telegram we 
were en route. The train going east from Denver 
was held for my husband two and a half hours, 
so that no time should be lost. We went flying 
through mountain gorges, speeding over plains like 
mad, and reached New York in less than three days. 
I was carried straight through Denver, almost di- 
rectly past my sister-in-law's 1 door, without even a 
chance to say "How d' ye do?"— and that, too, 
when I had written her the week before that I would 
spend two or three days with her when returning 
home. She writes me rather a reproachful letter, 
but I am without blame; for, while there is much 
comfort in traveling in a private car, there are also 
some drawbacks, for I had to give up my cherished 
plan of visiting friends on the way back, and pack 

1 Mrs. William H. Price. 

403. 



Bnna price 2)tUon 



my trunk for home. So we are here, and have been 
for a week at the Plaza Hotel, for we have no home, 
as our house is in the hands of renovators, up stairs 
and down. 

I went down to Lincoln to visit Mrs. "Wing. I had 
a delightful day, but the time was too short for all 
we had to say while we lived over the happy days of 
long ago ; so I have a little scheme that I hope you 
will fall in with at once. It is that you and Mrs. Wing 
make me a visit this late autumn or early winter. I 
mention this time, for I am sure I shall be all settled 
in my house, and I like to think that I can make it 
worth your effort to come. You know I shall be very 
happy to have you under my roof, and to do what I 
can to help you see what there is in this Sodom 
that Christians may see. Now, dear, pray give 
this matter your thought, and ask Johni to help 
you away ; if he will only bring you, my cup will be 
full indeed. You shall partake of the best I have to 
offer, i. e., a hearty welcome. I have had forwarded 
to me from Glenwood a letter from Mrs. Wing, and 
she is thinking favorably of the project. Her daugh- 
ter Alice is soon coming here to enter the art school, 
and that will bring her mother, even if no other in- 
ducements are offered. My daughters send their love 
to you, and I am bold enough to send mine to John. 
Well, bless him, he was very, very good to me, and 
that is something to be cherished and treasured. 

We left my son Hiram and his wife in Colorado 

i Mr. Bills. 
404 



flDemoir ant) /SDemortals 



Springs. John and his wife have to-day gone to 
Saratoga, where the other grandmother x of my little 
granddaughter is impatiently awaiting her arrival. 

Is n't it refreshing to have somebody awaiting you 
with outstretched honest arms to bid you welcome ? 
I found it so during my trip this summer, and " I 
know whereof I speak." As soon as I can snatch a 
moment from " nagging " the workmen in my house, 
I am going to answer Mrs. Wing's letter, and tell her 
you are coming to me for a visit. Now pray don't 
make me a falsifier, and thus put me on the roll with 
Ananias and Sapphira. Good-by for the present. 
Write soon, for I am not a patient woman, and if you 
don't I must and will write you again. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

1 Mrs. Downing. 




405 




CHAPTER XI 

LIFE IN NEW YORK AND AT KNOLLCREST 

1893-98 

Knollcrest library addition — 1896, Sixth, visit to Europe — Christmas at 
Knollcrest — Death of Mrs. Wing, of Mr. Bills, and of a granddaugh- 
ter—Marriage of daughter Susie — Fondness for Knollcrest — Ad- 
vised to visit Nauheim — Last letters— Fatal voyage — Sinking of the 
Bourgogne — Memorial services — Conclusion. 

LETTERS TO JOHN F. DILLON II, MRS. BILLS, MISS ALICE 
WING, GEORGE WING, MRS. FILLEY, MRS. STERLING, MRS. 
WARRINER, HIRAM P. DILLON, MRS. HIRAM P. DILLON, 
MISS MOLLIE GRAHAM, HIRAM PRICE, JOHN F. DILLON 




N the winter of 1893-94 the family resided at 
their home in New York. In December, 
1893, Mrs. Dillon, accompanied by her hus- 
band, revisited St. Louis, and remained four days in 
that city as the guest of Mrs. Ware and Mrs. Pollak. 
She saw some of her old friends, but after fifteen 
years' interval many faces were missing. The sum- 
mer of 1894 was spent at their cottage in Saratoga 
(near which Mrs. Dillon's father took a cottage for 
the season), and the winter of 1894-95 was passed in 
406 



/Ifoemoir anfc> /HSemoriate 



New York. In this year her father, at her special 
instance, sat for his portrait to Mr. George H. Ye well, 
with a most satisfactory result. 

In 1894 was begun, and in 1895 was completed, the 
new home at Far Hills, known as ' ' Knollcrest, ' ' as 
previously stated. 1 On July 6, 1895, Mrs. Dillon's 
husband, in company with his friend Judge U. M. 
Rose, sailed on the Bourgogne for Europe, joining his 
daughters at Carlsbad. Mrs. Dillon remained at home 
with her son Hiram and his family, personally look- 
ing after the building of Knollcrest, to which they 
removed in July, 1895, staying there, owing to the 
illness and death of the little daughter of her son 
John, until January 18, 1896, when she went to her 
city home in New York. 

Mrs. Dillon's friend Mrs. Wing, so often mentioned 
in these letters, died in November, 1895, at Lincoln, 
Nebraska. 

In April, 1896, her daughter Susie was married in 
St. Bartholomew's Church, New York city, to Mr. 
Gerard Warriner. 

In June, 1896, Mrs. Dillon, accompanied by her 
daughter Annie, sailed for Havre en route to Carls- 
bad for the cure. This was Mrs. Dillon's sixth trip to 
Europe. Before leaving she had planned a library 
addition to Knollcrest. It was built during this year, 2 
and is briefly described in one of her letters in this 
chapter. Her husband wrote her, on June 14, 1896, 
that he had been appointed one of the commissioners 

» See Chapter I, p. 19. 2 gee Chapter I, p. 20. 

407 



Hnna price Dillon 



to draft a charter for Greater New York, but that 
notwithstanding this he would meet her in Europe as 
he had promised. He accordingly sailed on July 4, 
and about two weeks thereafter joined his wife and 
daughter at Carlsbad. Mrs. Dillon was able to take a 
mild cure, and thought herself benefited by it. 

Mrs. Dillon and her husband and daughter Annie left 
Carlsbad August 6, stopping en route at Nuremberg. 
They had visited that city together thirteen years be- 
fore. Mrs. Dillon revisited it in September, 1892, 
" drove to the Schone Brunnen, and took a drink, for 
fear she would never be there again. ' ' i Recalling for 
three delightful days the memories of their previous 
visit, to them 

Fairer seemed the ancient city, and the sunshine seemed 

more fair, 
That they once had trod its pavement, once before had 

breathed its air. 

Leaving Nuremberg with regret, they proceeded to 
Baden-Baden, Basel, and Lucerne, at each of which a 
rest of some days was made, and thence to Paris. 
Afterward they went to London, stopping at Canter- 
bury on the way. A pleasant excursion was made 
to Oxfords and to Cambridge. While in Liverpool 
the husband had the satisfaction of hearing the last 
of the great speeches of Mr. Gladstone, then in his 
eighty- seventh year, on the ' ' Armenian Atrocities. ' ' 

Mrs. Dillon and her husband came home in the 
fall on the steamer Campania, leaving their daughter 

» See Chapter IX, p. 384. 2 see Chapter I, pp. 48, 49. 

408 



flDemoir an& flfcemorfals 



Susie and her husband and their daughter Annie in 
Paris, where the latter remained to pursue her musi- 
cal studies. 

In the fall of 1896 the family, relatives, and friends 
celebrated the Christmas season at Knollcrest in the 
library, which had just been completed. The rest 
of the winter of 1896-97 the family lived at the Plaza 
and New Netherland hotels, in New York city, and 
at the Laurel-in-the-Pines, Lakewood, New Jersey. 
After her return from Europe Mrs. Dillon had the 
pleasure of the long-hoped-for visit at Knollcrest from 
Mrs. Bills. 

The summer and fall of 1897, Thanksgiving, and the 
holidays were spent at Knollcrest. At Thanksgiving, 
besides relatives, Mrs. Dillon had the satisfaction of 
visits from her friends Mrs. Chapin, Mrs. Filley, Mrs. 
Holmes, Mrs. Ormiston, and Mrs. Lindabury. The 
winter of 1897-98 was passed at the Hotel Savoy in 
New York, and the Lakewood House at Lakewood. 
During the Christmas festivities, at which all of the 
family were present except the eldest son, her husband 
met with an accident, resulting in a fracture of both 
of the lower bones of the right leg, which kept him 
within doors for some months, but from which he fully 
recovered. 

Mrs. Dillon was more or less confined to her room 
during the winter of 1897-98 and the following spring 
by what the physicians called " valvular disease of 
the heart." It did not in general cause her extreme 
pain or distress, but it prevented her from taking 

409 



Hnna price Billon 



active exercise. She was required by her physician 
to keep free as possible from excitement or anxieties, 
and was advised by him to try the baths at Nauheim 
in Germany, which had of late years obtained much 
celebrity as a remedy for heart-disease such as Mrs. 
Dillon's. Her daughter Annie was likewise advised 
to take again the Carlsbad cure, by which she had 
been previously benefited. To this end the mother 
and daughter sailed from New York on the Bour- 
gogne, July 2, 1898. Except a farewell note to her 
husband, the last letter by Mrs. Dillon before the 
grievous fate which so soon afterward overtook her 
and her daughter was written to her father just 
prior to embarking on the fatal voyage. * 

By reason of impaired health, and the pain and diffi- 
culty of writing caused by gout in the fingers, Mrs. 
Dillon's letters, during the period covered by this 
chapter, were shorter and less frequent than for- 
merly. Moreover, death had thinned and was thin- 
ning the number of her correspondents. The letter 
first given is to her thirteen-year-old grandson. 

To John F. Dillon II 

704 North Broadway, Saratoga, 
Saturday, June 30, 1894. 
My dear little Boy : 

I received your letter and was pleased to know that 
you had not forgotten your grandmother. Your 

1 See Chapter I, p. 2. 
410 



/Memoir anfc /iDemottais 



handwriting is much improved since you last wrote 
me. If you have made as much progress in music 
as in penmanship— I know you played well when 
you made your debut before the public— I would 
travel a long distance to hear you. 

We are again settled in Saratoga. It is sometimes 
very hot, though never so extreme as New York. I 
am going down to the city to-night to visit your fa- 
ther before he goes back to Kansas. I was glad to get 
a message from your Nellie. 1 Tell her when she has 
a summer all to herself she must come and see me. 
Could not you bring her? I believe you could, and I 
would make you very welcome. Inclosed is a minia- 
ture of Sandow (the strong man). You can make 
quite a stir among the boys by placing the tip of his 
blue cap on the ball of your middle finger, with his 
feet out, and see him balance himself; it is quite won- 
derful. Write me again when your pressing business 
with the boys and your pony will permit, and believe 
me always 

Your affectionate 

Grandmother. 

In the letter which follows Mrs. Dillon thanks Mrs. 
Bills for calling upon Mr. Price when she was on a 
visit to Washington, and draws a brief picture of her 
venerable father, then in his eighty-first year, refer- 
ring to his well-known, long-continued, and earnest 

1 His nurse, an old colored family servant. 
411 



Hnna iprice Billon 



advocacy of the cause of temperance. She also tells 
her correspondent of the building of Knollcrest. 1 

To Mrs. Bills 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
March 16, 1895. 
My dear Friend: 

My father was delighted that you took the trouble 
to go and see him. He is a dear old man. and be- 
comes each day better prepared for the great change 
that must soon come. Still, the brim of his hat loses 
nothing of its Quaker-like width, his collar and stock 
show no signs of weakening, and his principles, tem- 
perance especially, are stancher and more granite- 

1 See Chapter I, p. 19. 

Mrs. Dillon was, as her family often remarked, a natural architect 
and an enthusiastic builder. She felt to be true what Mrs. Montagu 
said concerning her house in Portman Square: "What most recom- 
mends my house to me is its convenience and cheerfulness. A good 
house is a great comfort in old age, and it is among the few felicities 
that money can obtain." Knollcrest was planned in all its details 
by Mrs. Dillon in the summer of 1894, at Saratoga ; and knowing her 
interest in everything relating to its construction, her husband, on the 
day the contract was formally let, dropped her this hurried note : 

" 195 Broadway, New York, October 17, 1894. 
"Dear Wife: 

" I went at 11 : 30 to Boring, the architect, and found a representative 
of the Enterprise Building Co. there ; I agreed upon and signed the 
contract for building our new house at Far Hills. It includes smoking- 
room on first floor ; the hall sixteen feet wide, and all rooms above 
hall enlarged accordingly. All the original specifications apply with 
the exceptions noted on inclosed paper. Boring goes with them to- 
morrow to show the site. They will begin work at once. I start at 
3:20 p. m. for Washington. My case in the Supreme Court is likely to 
be reached promptly to-morrow, and I write in great haste. I hope we 
shall all live to see the new house done, and that it may afford us all 
happiness. Affectionately yours, 

"John F. Dillon." 

412 



PORTRAIT OF HER HUSBAND, JOHN F. DILLON, 
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY PRINCE, NEW YORK, 1899. 



/iDemoit ant) /IDemorials 



like than in the memorable years gone by. I spent 

nearly a month with him this winter, and it was a 

time of solid comfort and continual edification. 

Do you know that I am now building a house in 

the country ? I am going to shake the dust of the 

New York streets from off my feet, turn away from 

society, eschew all its vanities, and go back to the 

country, consort with the chickens and turkeys, raise 

my own flowers, fruit, and potatoes, and be happy for 

the while. My husband insists that he will not close 

his city house, but keep it ready for his reception 

when too tired to go to the country or when belated. 

He and the girls will suit themselves in that matter, 

but as for me, I shall take up the line of march to 

New Jersey this summer, carrying with me all that 's 

near and dear, and settle myself far from the city's 

noisy strife. . . . 

Affectionately yours, 

A. P. D. 

Accordingly Mrs. Dillon did take up her line of 
march to her New Jersey home, and settled there in 
July, 1895, although the house was still unfinished. 
Her son Hiram and his family were with her during 
the summer. 

The next two letters were written to Miss Alice Wing, 
the daughter of her long-time friend Mrs. Wing, so often 
mentioned in these letters. Alice had spent much of 
her leisure time at Mrs. Dillon's home in New York 
when attending Mrs. Hopkins's School of Applied 
Design the winter before. 

413 



Bnna price Billon 



To Miss Alice Wing 

Knollcrest, Sunday, October 14, 1895. 
My dear Alice : 

I often find myself thinking and talking of you, 
and the good times we all had when you were here 
last winter. 

It is not quite a fortnight since I returned from 
a short trip to Saratoga. The girls left there the 
1st of September, Susie to go with her friends 
the "Whitneys on a camping expedition to Rangeley 
Lakes in Maine. Annie went to Bellport, Long 
Island. They have both returned, and have since 
been in New Jersey to make John a visit. They 
are wild over the farm we are opening at Far 
Hills, New Jersey, and are already beginning to 
gather seeds for the flower- and kitchen-gardens. 
Susie is prepared for real work. She wears russet- 
leather leggings and shoes, and has a tweed dress to 
the tops of the shoes. Lastly, she surmounts all these 
tomboy clothes with a tweed cap, which gives her 
quite a businesslike appearance. Annie has been 
admitted to the Conservatory of Music, and is making 
great progress in her music— piano, organ, and vio- 
lin. I have placed an organ in the parlor, so that she 
may have every advantage. She suffers frightfully 
some days with her rheumatism. 

Now, how is your dear mother? Give her my love, 
and tell her I am expecting that visit, and whether 
414 



/Ifoemotr ant) /Ifoemoriais 



she comes at morning, at noon, or at night, I shall 
not be taken by surprise. My dear friend Mrs. Bills 
did n't put in an appearance in Saratoga. I must 
really find time to write and tell her how I hate her ! 

A few days ago I sent the Barnard College ' ' An- 
nual " to your mother. I know she is always inter- 
ested in everything for the advancement of women, 
and so I am sure that copy went to the right place. 1 

I am planning to spend a considerable part of my 
time in my country home this winter. 

Yesterday we went to hear the divine Melba sing. 
She gave the flute song from "Lucia" as I never 
heard it before. Oh, I wish you, too, might hear it, 
for I know you would have enjoyed it as much as 
you did " Carmen." Well, all that will come, let us 
live to hope. 

With love to your family, and an extra portion for 
your mother, I am always, 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Alice Wing 

New York City, 
Thursday, November 14, 1895. 
My dear friend Alice: 

Your note of the 10th inst., which brings me such 
sad news, is just received. I can never tell you 
how it wrings my heart that such deep grief has 

i See Chapter I, p. 13. 
415 



Hnna price Billon 



fallen upon your household, and upon all your 
friends. I had supposed that your dear mother was 
constantly upon the mend, and that she would soon 
be restored to perfect health. I have thought of her 
and you often this summer, and had it in my heart 
to write, but a large family and the cares of house- 
building were upon me, and as my daughters and 
their father were in Europe, it left much for me to 
superintend. 

Hymie's family were with me, and, except for the 
worries consequent upon opening a new home, I 
should have had a delightful summer. 

"We are now living on our farm, and enjoy it quite 
as much as we thought we should. I never come to 
town except as on this occasion— the horse show; 
and I am only here for a few days, when I return 
with joy to my country home. 

Now I wish I might have your mother with me. 
I truly believe it would give her new life. It seems 
to me that she need not leave us, if she only has the 
right treatment and care. She is much younger than 
I, and I cannot give her up. She has always been so 
helpful to all about her. For many years she has been 
my model of all that a woman can be. If she is at 
all interested in anything outside her immediate sur- 
roundings, give her ever so much heartfelt love, and 
say that there is nothing I would' not do for her, 
were it in my power. I wish I might see her and you, 
for my heart goes out to your home, and may God 
spare the mother for many years to come. Annie and 
416 



/IDemoir anb /l&emorials 



Susie deeply sympathize with you in your anxiety, 

and send their love. Bern ember me affectionately to 

your father, and believe me your friend in all your 

sorrows. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Within a week after the date of the last letter Mrs. 
Wing had passed from mortal view, and Mrs. Dillon 
wrote the tender and sympathetic letters next given 
to the bereaved husband and daughter at their home 
in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

To George Wing 

Knollcrest, November 21, 1895, 
My dear Mr. Wing : 

From the despatch received to-day I learn of your 
bereavement. I have no language in which to express 
my sorrow for the loss of a near and dear friend; 
much less to offer consolation to one so sorely afflicted. 
That the Good Father may comfort you "as one whom 
his mother comf orteth ' ' is my earnest prayer. 

A letter received from Alice a few days ago in a 
measure prepared me for this sad event. Still, no 
matter what may be our warning, we never are quite 
ready for the final outgoing of our loved ones. I can- 
not realize that my friend has gone beyond all that is 
earthly, and that I shall hear her voice no more. To- 
night, as I write, you sit beside her still form, and are 
endeavoring to follow her freed spirit to its heavenly 
417 



Hrma ©rice Dillon 



home, and are yearning to know if she still thinks of 
you. My husband joins me in heartfelt sympathy 
for you all in your sorrow. 

Very sincerely yours, 

Anna Price Dillon. 



To Miss Alice Wing 

Knollcrest, New Jersey, November 21, 1895. 
My dear Alice : 

I cannot believe that a word from your mother's 
old friend will jar your feelings in this dark hour 
of your affliction. I am so sorry for you, dear, and 
for all who called her mother, and for myself. I need 
not tell you how much I loved her, and how sincerely 
I regret that I shall see her no more, and that there 
is one less in this sad world to love me. I am griev- 
ing much to-night, and thinking over the happy times 
we used to have together, and that the visit from her 
that I have so long planned must now surely be 
given up. Well, I believe we shall yet have those 
longed-for talks— though not in the flesh, yet in the 
world of glorified spirits. 

Your dear mother was a Christian, and lived a life 
that fitted her for the change that has come to her. 
Will you not sometime write me of her illness, of her 
talks, and what were the messages she left for all? 
I wish I might put my arms around you and Bessie, 
and comfort you as best I could in this terrible trial. 
418 



ZlDemott an& /iDemorials 



With love for Bessie, Dan, and your own dear self, 
I am, 

Yours affectionately, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

After Mrs. Wing's death her daughter Alice, as 
previously stated, wrote Mrs. Dillon to know whether 
she wished her letters returned to her, and, in obedi- 
ence to Mrs. Dillon's directions, they were destroyed, 
much against the daughter's own preference. 1 

In the next letters to Mrs. Bills and Alice Wing 
are interesting glimpses of Mrs. Dillon's own life 
in the winter of 1895-96. 



To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
January 5, 1896. 
Dear Friend : 

Your welcome Christmas gift reached me on New 
Year's Eve. I need n't tell you I was delighted to be 
remembered, especially delighted as I believe the buf- 
fet cover is of your own handiwork. Am I right ? You 
know you said once upon a time that you were going 
to give me something yeu had made. I like to think 
you made it, and I have displayed it on my sideboard 
here in my new house. 

i Concerning her mother's death the daughter wrote : " Mother was 
sure eternal life is a reality. Her last words were: 'I have seen it. 
I want you all to realize it is true. It is more beautiful than we thought. 
We shall be together again. I shall be waiting for you.' She was 
rational to the very last." 

419 



Hnna price Dillon 



I am still in the country. Probably I should have 
gone to my city residence before this, as my husband 
and daughter are domiciled there for the winter 
months, had not scarlet fever broken out in John's 
family (he lives only a little way from me), and I had 
to take the baby to prevent his getting the disease. 
John, his wife, little daughter, and two servants all 
had it. They are still housed, and so am I with the 
baby, a bright little fellow just one year old. 

I had planned to be in Washington at this time with 
my father; but " Man proposes," etc. My father 
will be eighty-two years old on the 10th inst. He is 
hale, hearty, good-natured, and, even before he is 
called, seems all ready for the better land. 

Since the death of our dear friend Mrs. Wing I 
have felt more than ever before how near is the beau- 
tiful country to which we are all journeying at such 
a rapid pace. 

What are you doing, dear friend, this winter ? And 
how is your health ? I would give much to see you, 
deary, and if I do not go to Europe this summer, I 
shall go to you, if you do not come to me. 

I am living in my house in the country, and am 
delighted, and thank God every day of my life that I 
am so comfortable. It grows more and more lovely 
to me, this quiet life, and the reluctance to go to the 
city becomes greater. I am one hour and twenty 
minutes from society (I mean the beau monde), and 
am quite satisfied with what this beautiful locality 
affords, i. e., the sunshine, the hills, the clouds, God's 
420 



flDemofr anfc> /iDemorials 



fresh air, and the ever-changing landscape. 1 Come 
and see for yourself how fortunate I am. 

How is John ? Does he ever speak of us ? or 
does he care for old friends ? Eemember me to him. 
I should be so glad of a visit from him. With love 
and best wishes for a Happy New Year, I am, 

Yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Alice Wing 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
January 6, 1896. 
My dear Alice : 

A few days ago there was forwarded to me from 
New York the orange-spoon which was your dear 
mother's, of which you wrote me. I need not tell 
you how much I prize it, and how I like to hold it in 
my hand and think that she did so in her lifetime. 
I cannot realize that she is gone from us, and that 
we shall see her no more on this side the boundary 
line between heaven and earth. I know she is 
happy, and that I must wait. 

You see I still linger in the country. I suppose by 
this time Bessie has left you to go on with her work, 
and you are fighting life's battle alone. . . . 
Give my love to the family, and believe me, 

Always affectionately yours, 
Anna P. Dillon. 

1 See Chapter I, pp. 20, 21. 
421 



Hnna price Dillon 



In the letters which follow, the death of Mrs. Dil- 
lon's little granddaughter, and afterward the mar- 
riage of her daughter Susie, are recounted. 



To Mrs. Bills 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
March 1, 1896. 
My dear Friend : 

"When I tell you that I have been in my bed for 
nearly six weeks you will not wonder that you no 
sooner received an answer to your kind letter. I 
stopped in the country at Knollcrest until January 18, 
when I came to town to be present at a musicale the 
girls were giving. John and his family had been for 
six weeks imprisoned on account of their having scar- 
let fever. The time of their confinement had passed, 
and they were to follow me on the 20th, and spend a 
month with me here, while their house was being- 
fumigated and thoroughly cleaned. The day after I 
left, their little girl, three and a half years old, who 
had just recovered from scarlet fever, came down 
with malignant diphtheria, and died on the 20th, after 
a few hours' illness. My dear little granddaughter! 
the last intelligible words she uttered were, " We 're 
all doin' to ganmuzzer's to-morrow." Dear child! 
she went on a longer journey, and left us all desolate. 
I could not stand up under this terrible affliction, and 
I came down with nervous depression, but now am 
trying to take up the burden of life and travel on. 
422 



PORTRAIT OF HER DAUGHTER ANNIE, FROM 
A PHOTOGRAPH, 1892. 



flDemotr anb /iDemorials 



Susie is to be married in April. That 's another 
blow; but she is so happy, I must be content. She 
will go abroad for a year or more, and possibly make 
her home there. Mr. Warriner is a cultured gentle- 
man of good family, and is devoted to Susie ; so why 
should I complain ? I shall not be here many years 
longer, and I ought to be glad to have her settled. Poor 
Annie has spent the greater part of this month in her 
bed ; she has an aggravated case of weak stomach, and, 
in addition to that, she is grieving over Susie's going. 

We are offering our city house for sale. Susie has 
run it for the past four years, so that it has been no 
care to me. When she is gone, Knollcrest will be all 
I can look after. 

If I do go abroad this coming spring, what can I 
do for you ? I shall be there long enough to attend 
to all your commissions. If my husband comes to 
bring me home, I shall return in September; if not, 
I shall stay away over the winter. These are my 
plans. They may never be carried out— God knows. 
Remember me to John, and believe me, 
Always yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Bills 

671 Madison Avenue, New York, 
April 13, 1896. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter received a week and more ago was a 
real comfort to me, and, as I re-read it, helps me to 
423 



Hnna price Billon 



bear the ordeal of giving away our daughter, which 
we must pass through this coming Wednesday. 
Everything is in readiness for her departure to her 
new home. Presents and good wishes galore are 
hers. She goes from us under most delightful cir- 
cumstances, but the dreariness of the afterward I am 
already anticipating, and can feel the darkness set- 
tling down upon me now. 

Thursday, April 16. Well, Susie's wedding is over. 
The bride and groom have gone for a couple of days 
to Philadelphia, previous to sailing on Saturday. I 
can't write much about it. I send you a news- 
paper that gives a good description of the wedding, 
but the picture of Susie which it contains is gro- 
tesque. Annie will sail on May 2, and I shall follow 
in June, after I have planted my trees and shrubs at 
Knollcrest. What can I do for you ? Anything in my 
power will be a pleasure. I am sending by this mail 
some wedding-cake, which Susie wished me to at- 
tend to. 

Affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Mollie Graham 

New York, Sunday, May 3, 1896. 

My dear friend Mollie : 

I had your welcome letter several days ago, but the 
hurry and bustle which comes with a wedding, and 
preparations to leave my town house in condition to 
424 



flDemoir ant) flfeemorials 



rent or sell, have given me much to do. Susie sailed 
three days after her marriage, and yesterday Annie 
left to join her in Paris. Judge Dillon and I expect 
to go over in June or July. Annie will stay abroad 
for eighteen months to take music lessons. Susie will 
have an apartment in Paris. She went away very 
happy. Her husband is nearly forty years old, but 
does not look more than thirty. I like him, and you 
may know I would n't if there were not something in 
him to like. I am sending you, dear Mollie, some 
wedding-cake, as I have already done Mrs. Bills and 
Fannie McManus. 

Always your affectionate friend, 

Anna P. Dillon, 

The next, among other things, reveals Mrs. Dillon's 
fondness for the simple pleasures of country life. 



To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
May 13, 1896. 
My dear Friend : 

Your letter received last night gives me such a 
surprise that I must write you, although I have been 
in bed for more than a week, under orders from 
my doctor to stay there until such time as my heart's 
action should become more "rational." This old 
heart has taken the fancy to stop its beats when- 
ever I become a little worried or tired, so I am often 

425 



Bnna price Billon 



ordered to give up everything and everybody, and go 
to bed and stop thinking. And there I am now, try- 
ing to answer your letter, so you will excuse every- 
thing. 

Your beautiful present came to Susie in due time, 
and it, like many others, is to be acknowledged 
when she finds herself settled. She was delighted 
with it, and showed it with pleasure to the few who 
were permitted to see her presents. The poor girl 
was worn out with visits, invitations, congratula- 
tions, etc., and said, " My friends' goodness must 
be acknowledged after I get away." Truly it is a 
terrible ordeal to get married in New York. Every- 
body wants to see and talk to the bride elect, and to 
dine her, so you will get some idea of what work 
Susie had to do. 

If I am well enough to sail I am going to Eu- 
rope on the 6th prox. Annie left us a week ago, 
and is in Paris with Susie and Mary Price by this 
time. I asked you in my last what I could or should 
do for you in Paris, and I now ask you again. If you 
could have come to the wedding, I believe I could 
have persuaded you to go farther, and we might 
have gone to Europe together. I have received one let- 
ter from Susie since she sailed, and she seems happy, 
and devoted to her husband; and well she may, for 
he has fine qualities, and is a graduate of Oxford. I 
like him very much, and I am rather sorry I do, for, 
as he is an Englishman, I would like to take up the 
Venezuela affair and fight him ! 
426 



/IDemotr anfc /iDemodals 



You are good enough to urge me to visit you, and I 
know you are sincere, but ' ' you know not what you 
ask." I have been ill most of the winter, and you 
would not be glad to see me. 

But, deary, I believe it would rejuvenate me to 
have a visit from you. My country home grows more 
beautiful each day ; vegetation is fast unfolding, and 
all about becomes enchanting. I have been planting 
trees and shrubs. I wish I could get a silver-leaved 
tree such as grew near the pump at Leafland, and in 
which Annie beguiled many an idle hour, sitting in 
its topmost branches, swaying with the breeze, and 
singing. Do you think it possible to get a few slips 
from some florist there? I can't get them here. 

There is much to interest me on a farm, where tur- 
keys, ducks, geese, and guinea-hens run at large; just 
now, through the open window, I hear plainly the 
proclamation of an old gander that there is an addi- 
tion to his flock ; the old gray goose, which has been 
patiently sitting for four weeks in a dark, hot pen, 
has stepped forth in great pride with a lot of little 
ones, and the gander is shouting and screaming the 
news from a hilltop. Is n't it like a human father? 
We have cows and horses and pigs. One little heifer 
called ' ' Annie ' ' comes to eat from my hand when I 
am able to be out. Now these things may not inter- 
est you, but I confess that I am more entertained by 
them than by the majority of people. 

Who is John Bills' s choice for President? I wish I 
might see and ask him myself. Will he ever visit us ? 

427 



Hnna price H>illon 



I think he will, if you bring him. Eemember me 
to him, and believe me, 

Always yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

In the interim between the preceding letter and the 
one following, Mrs. Dillon had made the trip to Europe, 
extending from June to October, 1896, which is out- 
lined in the introduction to this chapter. 

The next letter describes her homeward voyage on 
the Campania, and those that follow to her daughter 
in Paris relate to Mrs. Dillon's life at Knollcrest in 
1896 and 1897. 



To Mrs. Gerard Warriner and Husband 

P. M. S. Campania, October 2, 1896. 
Dear Susie and Gerard : 

I am sure you are anxious to know where we are, 
and how we are, so I am trying to write, though the 
ship is scudding along at the rate of twenty-two miles 
per hour. The writing-room is a beautiful one in the 
bow, and we are doing no small amount of plunging. 
We expect to reach New York to-morrow morning. 
We have had a most tempestuous voyage until to-day ; 
but now the seas are calm, skies clear, and all goes 
merry as a marriage bell. Oh, dear ! what terrible 
days were Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednes- 
day! Angry seas, howling winds, wet decks, and 
everybody ill and moaning for fresh air, for every 
428 



flDemoir an& /IDemorials 



port and door was tightly closed against old Neptune, 
who banged and beat this blessed ship until we 
thought she must go to pieces. 

The Campania is the grandest vessel afloat; large 
rooms, good table, and perfect service. If I had n't 
vowed never to cross the ocean again, I should surely 
take this ship. I hope you will from time to time 
tell me all about yourselves, for you know how 
anxious I shall be. 

Very affectionately, 

Your mother and mother-in-law, 
Anna P. Dillon. 



To Mrs. Gerard Warriner 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, November 30, 1896. 
Dear Susie : 

Yours of the 15th and 17th received to-day, and I 
hasten, as is my habit, to answer while your words 
are still warm. You say you get no letters. I 
cannot understand where my letters go, for I assure 
you every word you have ever sent has been an- 
swered immediately. 

Susie Sterling is staying with me, as your father is 
in Washington arguing some cases. John went down 
with him to be admitted to the Supreme Court. The 
library is nearly finished, and soon we shall set up 
the books. I have your father's portrait here, and 
yours and Annie's ; they will make a fine appear- 
ance. I brought from 671 the large stained-glass 

429 



Hnna price Dillon 



window, and have put it into a room that you don't 
know. It is a little room between the main house 
and the new library on the west. It gives the room 
a regal look, and shows better than ever. 

Little Theodore Sterling is as cute as you ever 
saw. He is wonderfully precocious. The other day 
he was trying to tie together some bed- casters I had 
given him to play with. He tried and tried, and 
finally brought them to me and asked me to ' ' com- 
bine ' ' them. What do you think of that ? His 
mother called him the other day to dress him to 
take the train home. He did not want to go, and 
fussed a great deal because he had to leave, and 
wound up by saying, "It is perfectly uprageous to 
take me back to town when I am having such a nice 
time here." I shall write you again shortly. 

Affectionately, 

Mama. 

To Mrs. Gerard Warriner 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
December 7, 1896. 

Dear Susie: 

I have just received yours of the 26th and 27th, 
and I am glad to get the letters. Was the roast goose 
good ? We had a turkey, and Susie Sterling and John 
helped eat it. Our Thanksgiving was not uproarious, 
but quiet and circumspect. I think Robert and Annie l 

1 Robert and Annie Brooks, the butler and the cook. 
430 



ZlDemotr anfc /IDemorials 



would have liked a lot of people. Mrs. Gilbert came 
down Saturday and went back to-day. Mrs. Mosher 
is here, and will stay until sometime to-morrow. She 
is a dear old lady. I sent you and Annie and Mary 
Price Christmas presents last week. I am in great 
haste, so please excuse a short note. With love, I am, 
Always affectionately, 

Mama. 



To Mrs. Gerard Warriner 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
January 29, 1897. 
Dear Susie : 

Your letter of the 15th inclosing one written in 
Paris on the 8th came to me last week. I have been 
so miserable that my letters have had to wait. I ex- 
pect to go to town on the 8th prox. for the winter, 
and am not looking forward to it with any pleasure. 
To-day is a glorious one here. It is snowing slowly, 
surely, and steadily ; as far as the eye can reach there 
is one vast white mantle; the trees are wrapped in 
snow from topmost to lowest branch, and stand like 
specters all through the lawn. I am delighted; it is 
the finest scene since I came here. By the way, I want 
to tell Gerard that John's poulterer has one hundred 
little chicks hatched by incubator; of course he will 
laugh at my interest in the matter. I wonder whether 
the letter written to you by your father on Wednesday 
431 



Hnna iprice Dillon 



last will reach you in Paris or in Eastbourne. I am 
glad that you are feeling well and cheerful. 
Affectionately, 

Mama. 

The following relates to the expected visit of her 
son Hiram and his family to Knollcrest for the sum- 
mer of 1897. 



To Hiram P. Dillon 

Knollcrest, Monday, June 7, 1897. 
Dear Hymie : 

I believe I owe you a letter, and for that reason 
write, and not because I have anything to make a 
letter interesting. I am counting the days now, as 
there will not be more than fifteen until you are here. 
As yet we have had no warm weather, and to-day is 
really raw and damp ; but I suppose it will boil next 
month. 

I presume Susie is getting her house ready to leave, 
and that everything will be shipshape when she does. 
Your father said he would occupy himself to-day get- 
ting passes for you and your family. We shall all be 
glad to see you. Susie Sterling is here for this month 
and possibly next. 

Give my love to Susie and Jack, and with lots for 
yourself, I am, as always, 

Affectionately, 

Mama. 

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/IDemoir ant) /IDemorials 



In the next two letters Mrs. Dillon refers to her life 
at Knollcrest, briefly describes the library, and urges 
Mrs. Bills and her husband to visit her. 



To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, July 1, 1897. 

My dear Friend : 

... I have been confined to my bed many weeks 
the past winter with my old trouble of the heart. The 
last attack I had, the doctor was called, and was good 
enough to tell me that I could never be well, but 
might live some time yet if I would be quiet. What 
harder thing could be imposed upon me? Could you 
tell? When I am apparently smothering to death I 
can be quiet, but as soon as that is relieved I am up 
and ready for the fray again. Your letter made me 
homesick, for through it I saw again my old friends, 
and lived over the good times of twenty years ago. 
Annie and Mary Price have gone to Carlsbad; Mr. 
Warriner, my son-in-law, who has been here on busi- 
ness, will join Susie at Tours, where they have taken 
a house for the summer. 

Now let me tell you of Far Hills. I have succeeded 
in getting a fair lawn, and my flowers begin to vie 
with those I had at dear old Leafland. The library is 
finished and furnished, a joy to the beholder, and a 
comfort to those who abide here. 1 It is fitted up with 

1 See Chapter I, p. 20. 
433 



Hnna price Billon 



things I have had a long time; one chair belongs to 
the set which I gave to the Davenport Library Asso- 
ciation for their lecture-room. Over the big fireplace, 
in carved-oak letters, I have put a motto, suggested by 
my son Hiram, from ' ' The Tempest, ' ' which reads : 

4D>E library was imfte&om large enough. 

It 's a grand, old-fashioned room, 25 x 60 feet, and there 
is nobody I would rather see in one of its coziest chairs 
than John C. Bills. Why don't you bring him to see 
us this summer? I pledge you I '11 try to make it 
pay you both for the trouble and worry of the journey. 
I may go to Nantucket to visit my father, who has a 
house there for the summer, but my visit can be ar- 
ranged so as to have you before I go or afterward. 
Let me hear from you. 

Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
August 2, 1897. 
My dear Friend : 

Yours of the 27th came yesterday, and I hasten to 
answer and urge you to come East. I thought I dis- 
covered in your letter a little gleam of hope that you 
might come, and I want to strike while the iron is 
hot, and perhaps I '11 get you. If John is sick and 
miserable, would n't it do him good to get away from 
434 



ZlDemoir an& /iDemorials 



every-day surroundings and see new faces and new 
places ? I would introduce him to my farm and its 
beauties, and he could rusticate a little. I would 
treat him lovely— let him do just as he pleased in 
regard to eating, drinking, sleeping, and, indeed, in 
everything. You know you said he liked the coun- 
try, and I don't believe there is any better place 
than this. Tom Wing came down last Saturday 
and spent Sunday with us. He seems a fine fellow, 
and we hope to have him here often. Annie has 
taken passage for home for the 2d of October; also 
Mary Price. My Susie and her husband are arrang- 
ing to be with us Christmas. I hope we may all be here 
and well when that time comes. My husband has 
been in Boston for two weeks, and came home over- 
worked and ill. With kind regards to Mr. Bills, I 
remain, 

Yours affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, September 20, 1897. 
My dear Friend : 

During all of these dreary weeks that I have been a 
prisoner in my room, you have been in my mind. I pic- 
ture you as I have seen you often in your bright little 
sitting-room, but alone, and my heart goes out to you 
in sympathy and love, and I long to put my arms 
435 



Hnna price Billon 



around you and tell you how much I feel for you in 
your terrible affliction. 1 I did not know, for some 
time after the despatch came, of the news it brought, 
for I was very ill— have been close to the border line 
of the world where our loved ones dwell. I have made 
my plans to go, as I surely must, with this crippled 
heart ; but I wish to have my girls at home, and see 
them again. Annie will, God willing, arrive on the 
12th of October. Susie and her husband come in 
November, for the holidays. 

I have thought, dear friend, that you might feel like 
coming East, and in a measure divert your mind from 
your sorrow; if you should, I must have you for a 
while. 

Miss Harriet Rogers 2 astonished me the other day 
by sending up her card to me here. She was in the 
neighborhood, and accidentally hearing we lived near 
by, came to see me. It is needless to say that I went 
down to see her, though I had to be carried up 
again, because the effort to climb the stairs is too great 
for me. We are putting into the house an elevator for 
my use, and then I shall not be so helpless. 

I would like to talk to you of my friend and your 
loved one that is gone. It seems as if we might bring 
him very near if we could but mingle our grief for 
his loss. Sometime, when you feel like it, tell me of 
him, and if he at any time hinted to you his instruc- 
tions. Now, my dear, I must finish this uninteresting 

1 Mr. Bills died suddenly shortly before this letter was written. 

2 Of Davenport ; a long-time friend. 

436 



/iDemoir anfc flDemorials 



letter. I dare not write long at a time. With love 
and a heart brimming with sympathy, I am always, 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Miss Mollie Graham 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
Sunday, November 7, 1897. 
Dear Friend Mollie : 

Your letter came some days ago, and if I were as 
good at letter-writing as formerly I should have an- 
swered before this. I was glad to hear from you. It 
is like the good times when I lived among you to 
hear from any of my old friends. I have Annie 
home again; she came three weeks ago, and is looking 
very well, and is well. She is happy to be here, and 
is delighted with her home. She plays the piano like 
a master, and, if rheumatism does not return, will 
give us great pleasure this winter. Susie and her 
husband are to be here, God willing, on the 1st of 
December, to pass the holidays with us. They had a 
house in the country this summer, at Tours, about 
five hours from Paris, and Annie spent several 
weeks with them there after her return from Carls- 
bad. She says Susie is a fine housekeeper— puts 
aside servants and everybody and takes a turn at 
making preserves and pickles, as she learned at 
home. It is not hard to tell whose child she is, is it ? 

You ask about my health. To be truthful, I must 
437 



Hnna price Billon 



say it is not so good as when you knew me. I have 
attacks of rheumatism of the heart, when I am 
brought very low ; just now I am better. When are 
you coming to see me, dear Mollie? I should be so 
glad to have you with me for a while, or at least 
until we get tired of each other. When would it 
be, think you ? With love, I am, 

Affectionately, 

Anna Price Dillon. 

The next letter refers again to the death of Mr. 
Bills. 

To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, November, 1897. 
My dear Friend : 

You are much in my mind these fall days, for it 
is only a little more than a year since I had such a 
lovely visit from you, and yet that short time has 
brought you such sad changes. We are very glad to 
have Annie back again, and so cheerful and contented 
in this beautiful country place that we are more 
than ever thankful that we have it. She has been 
here for a month, and is constantly planning and 
laying out walks and roads, planting and work- 
ing something as her mother did at Leafland. She 
is quite well, for her, though the damp days bring 
her much rheumatism, and I can see that she 
suffers. When the weather is fine, and she has the 
use of her hands, she plays the piano as only a 
438 



fffoemoir anD fIDemortals 



genius can play. She has put in a hard year's work 
on her music in Paris. Susie and her husband will 
arrive next week for a few weeks' visit, and we hope 
we are to have another Merry Christmas together. 

Judge Dillon is talking of our making a visit to 
Eome this winter; but we shall keep our house open 
until the latter part of January. At present my 
health is fair. I lead a lazy, inert life, and in this 
way I exist. Some days I feel it will not take me long 
to shuffle off this mortal coil, and then again I am bet- 
ter, and forget I stand on slippery ground. All the 
month of August I spent in bed, with the most dan- 
gerous attack I have ever had, and it was before I 
got fairly over that, that Miss Rogers called. Bless 
her ! it did me good to see her. I love my Daven- 
port friends, and they always infuse into me new 
life and new interests. My old father came to see me 
in the spring, and seemed so well and cheery that I 
could but contrast myself with him, and sometimes 
wondered which was really the older. 

Affectionately your friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To Mrs. Susie Price Sterling 

The Lakewood, Lakewood, New Jersey, 
Sunday, February 27, 1898. 
Dear Susie : 

I wrote you a week ago, asking you if, when you 
were looking for a nurse for Theodore, you would get 
■439 



Hnna ©rice Billon 



me a maid. How are you ? Does your arm still 
trouble you ? It is beautiful here, and you should 
bring Theodore for the change. I want a maid, and 
I want her right away. My trained nurse is going 
in a week, for I am better. Do you know of one ? 
. . . Love to Mary and Theodore. I was able to go 
down for the first time into the sun-parlor yesterday, 
and stayed for an hour. 

Affectionately, 

Aunt Annie. 

P. S. I inclose, as you request, your blessed mo- 
ther's recipe for mince-pies; mix all together, and 
season with the same gracious and lovely smile that 
always beamed upon all she did. 

A. P. D. 



To Mrs. Hiram P. Dillon 

Hotel Savoy, New York, March 2, 1898. 
Dear Susie : 

You see I am again at the Savoy: came up from 
Lakewood nearly a week ago. I am somewhat bet- 
ter; am taking carbonic-acid-gas baths, and I think 
they are just the thing, for the constant and profuse 
perspiration has nearly stopped, and I feel stronger. 
I have been advised to take these baths of the natural 
waters at Nauheim, Germany, but decline to make 
that trip until I test the artificial ones here. If I get 
any benefit from them, I shall go abroad and take a 
440 



/IDemotr an& /SDemotfals 



six weeks' cure. We are expecting you and yours to 
come home to us at Knollcrest for the summer. I shall 
be rather an uninteresting hostess, having to be in 
bed nearly all the time ; but you know the house and 
habits of the family well enough to get what there is 
to be had. I have had, and still have, a trained nurse, 
and find I shall have to keep a larger corps of ser- 
vants than ever before. I can't put my hands to my 
head to comb my hair, and so must keep a lady's- 
maid. I send Hymie, to whom I owe three letters, 
Inger soil's remarks on Seidl's death. I think them 
fine and quite worthy of the great conductor. 
With love to both boys and yourself, I am, 
Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To Miss Mollie Graham 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
April 21, 1898. 
My dear Friend : 

We are at home again, and are getting the house 
settled, and we want you to come to us for a long 
visit. I have been in bed all winter, first in New 
York and then at Lake wood ; for this place, while it 
is glorious in summer, is very cold in winter. I have 
pronounced heart-disease, and can only move about 
like a snail at any time. I have had a trained nurse 
since early in February. My doctor thinks he has at 

441 



Hnna price Billon 



last found a cure for me in carbonic-acid-gas baths. 
If these artificial baths avail anything I may go 
the latter part of June to Germany to take the nat- 
ural baths, as Nauheim is the only place where they 
are given. 

How is dear Mrs. Bills? Give my love to her. With 
kind remembrances to friends, I am, 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

To her friend Mrs. Filley, on learning of the death 
of her only son, on the eve of his intended marriage, 
Mrs. Dillon sent this sympathetic and consolatory 
letter. 



To Mrs. Abbie E. Filley 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
April 21, 1898. 
My dear Friend : 

I am overwhelmed with grief at the sad news of 
Arthur's death, which reached us yesterday. Surely 
no words and no expression of sympathy seem fit- 
ting at a time like this, for before such sorrow one 
stands with uncovered head and unsandaled feet. 
There is much I would like to know concerning the 
illness that has so suddenly robbed you of your dear 
one. His fiancee!— how great must be her grief! still, 
not that of a lonely and bereaved mother. Annie is 
heartbroken, and can only sit and look, saying, ' ' My 
442 



jflDemoir anb /t&emorials 



poor Mrs. Filley ! ' ' Sometime, when you feel that you 
can, will you not come to us for a visit, and, so far as 
it is possible, let us comfort you ? I am in bed nearly 
all the time, but all this is nothing beside your terri- 
ble affliction. Annie sends her love to you, and it is 
such a love as she feels for very few. 
Affectionately yours, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

Mrs. Dillon's approaching departure for Nauheim, 
and her regret in being obliged to leave Knollcrest, 
even for the summer, are expressed in the three let- 
ters that follow, i 



To Mrs. Bills 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, May 29, 1898. 
My dear Friend : 

Your dear note did much to cheer me, as I spend 
nearly all my time in bed. You may know that a 
letter from a dear friend is a little peep outside, and 
into what I am entirely shut out from, and that is the 
world and those who are well enough to enter into the 
activities I used to enjoy. I am going on the 25th of 
June to Nauheim, Germany, to try the cure, for 
chronic diseases of the heart. Whether I shall be 
benefited only God knows. It is the last resort, and 
I shall try it. We were to have sailed the 4th, but 

i See Chapter I, pp. 21, 22. 
443 



Hnna price Billon 



an accident to the steamer caused us to change ves- 
sels, and go the 11th. Then another, the Gascogne, 
was substituted, but I will not sail on her, as I was 
once on her in an accident, and am afraid. So now 
it is the Bretagne. * If I am well enough, I shall 
come home in October; if not, I shall stay over till 
spring. 

But enough of my plans. I wish I could know 
what you will do this summer. If you come East, I 
shall regret extremely not being here. Annie is now 
here, and will go when I do. Susie and her husband 
were home for four months, but are now back in 
Paris. Judge Dillon, who accidentally broke his leg 
last Christmas Eve, has at last thrown aside his 
crutches, and goes all about with two canes for sup- 
port. He has had a serious time. He is not going to 
Europe with me. Hymie and his wife are coming to 
spend the summer with him at Knollcrest. 

My home here is more lovely than ever. The 
trees have grown wonderfully, the grass is like velvet, 
and the flowers rival those I had at dear old Leafland. 
I cannot tell you what a sacrifice I am making in go- 
ing abroad; but if I am only mended sufficiently to 
enable me to stay a few years longer in sight of these 
beautiful clouds, the time will be well spent. I think 
very often of you in your loneliness and sorrow, and 
wish you would get away from the scene of your 
many happy and sorrowful days, and come to live 
East with your friends. Would n't you be happier, 

1 Afterward changed to the Bourgogne. 
444 



/l&emoir anfc /IBemorials 



dear? I will, if well enough, write you from Ger- 
many, and tell you of my progress toward health. 
Very affectionately, 

Your old friend, 

Anna P. Dillon. 



To Mrs. Hiram P. Dillon 

Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey, 
Monday, June 27, 1898. 
Dear Susie : 

We are now quite ready to leave the house, and 
shall do so on Thursday, stopping in the city until 
Saturday, when we sail at noon on the Bourgogne. 
I never left home with so much regret. I am abso- 
lutely driven out by the condition of my health, and 
if after all this effort and sacrifice I am no better, I 
shall feel a deep grief that I have been so long away 
from my beautiful home. When you come on for the 
summer I wish you would exercise all authority in 
my house in my absence. I would give a good deal 
to see you all again. 

With love to Hymie and Jack, and much for your- 
self, I am, 

Affectionately, 

Anna P. Dillon. 

The following last letter from Mrs. Dillon to her 
father has been briefly mentioned on a previous page. 1 

1 See Chapter I, p. 2. 
445 



Hnna price Billon 



To Hiram Price 



Knollcrest, Far Hills, New Jersey. 
Thursday, June 30, 1898. 
Dear Pappy : 

I am just leaving the house for the city, and expect 
to sail on the 2d prox. by the Bourgogne. 1 It is terri- 
bly hot here, and while I am glad to get away from 
the heat, I am hardly able to make the effort to go. 
A neighbor of ours. Mr. Kuhnhardt, who called yes- 
terday, says his mother has been in Xauheim three 
times for rheumatism of the heart, and has each time 
been benefited. I regret to leave my beautiful home, 
but conclude that by leaving for a few months I may 
stay here longer to enjoy it. If Doc - is well enough 
(he is not quite himself) he is to go to Washington 
sometime next week. I hope you are well, and that 
your trip West did you no harm. Annie goes with 
me to Paris, where we separate— she for Carlsbad. I 
for Nauheim, When we shall all meet again, only 
G-od knows. 

Very affectionately, 

Sis. 

P. S. I shall write you as soon as I arrive. My 
address is Credit Lyonnais, Boulevard des Italiens. 
Paris. 



1 See letter to Mrs. Schley, Chapter I, p. 21. 

- Her familiar appellation of her husband when speaMng or writing 
of him to her family. 



446 



/Ifoemoir anD /iDemottals 



Explanatory of the short undated note of Mrs. 
Dillon which follows, it may be stated that her hus- 
band, accompanied by the surgeon who attended him 
for his fractured leg, went, on January 17, 1898, from 
Far Hills to New York on a special car, taking rooms 
at the Savoy Hotel, leaving Mrs. Dillon at Knollcrest, 
to follow as soon as she felt able. This she did on 
January 19. Meantime, on the same day on which 
her husband left, she sent to him at the Savoy the 
following characteristic note in pencil : 

Dear Judge : 

I think I am better, and I am going to get up when 

nobody is around. Why are you blue ? You 're getting 

on finely, the doctor says; you are better off than if 

you had broken your head ! We shall go to town in a 

couple of days, and the Savoy will open its doors to 

two lame ducks. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. D. 

The two following brief notes thus originated : On 
Thursday, June 30, Mrs. Dillon and her daughter 
Annie went from Knollcrest to the city, preparatory 
to sailing on Saturday. On Friday Robert (the butler) 
came into the city with the trunks, and gave Mrs. 
Dillon, for her husband, the family commutation 
railway ticket. After the Bourgogne had sailed, she 
discovered, July 2, that she had forgotten to hand the 
ticket to her husband, and inclosed it in the note that 
first follows (postmarked "New York, N. Y., July 2, 
U7 



Hnna price Dillon 



5 p. m. , 1898 ' '), addressed to him at his office in the city. 
Shortly afterward, recalling that Monday, July 4, 
was a holiday, and that on that day he would not be 
at his office, but at Knollcrest, she sent him at that 
place the second note given below. 

To John F. Dillon 

A bord paquebot la Bourgogne. 

Dear Judge: 

I send herein a ticket Eobert gave me yesterday. 

It goes back by pilot. Good-by, old man. Take 

good care of yourself. We are now under way, and 

it is not so hot. I have only a minute, and so again 

good-by. Affectionately, 

A. P. Dillon. 

P. S. I write without the extra pair of glasses, as 
you see. 

To John F. Dillon 

A bord paquebot la Bourgogne. 

I have written and mailed a letter inclosing the rail- 
road ticket Robert gave me, but forgot Monday is the 
Fourth, and sent it to your office. I write again to 

ease your mind. 

Affectionately, 

A. P. Dillon. 

These notes, by chance occasioned, have the deep 
and mournful interest of being not only the last of the 
448 



/Ifcemoir anfc /IDemortals 



many hundreds she had written to her husband, but 
as being, so far as known, the last words she ever 
wrote to any person. One can almost imagine that 
she must have seen the shadow of fate fall upon the 
page as she was writing. But not so. As ever, they 
show that unto this last she was concerned for others, 
and not for herself, and that they were written with- 
out the slightest apprehension that the most terrible 
shaft in the armory of doom was so soon to be hurled 
on its fateful course against her and her beloved 
daughter. 

The Bourgogne left New York about 11 a. m., 
Saturday, July 2, with nearly five hundred passen- 
gers and a crew of over two hundred. Of the passen- 
gers eighty-five were first-cabin, one hundred and 
twenty-five second-cabin, and the rest were steerage. 

Mrs. Dillon was accompanied by her nurse, Miss 
Elizabeth McFarland, and by her daughter Annie and 
her maid, Hattie Wilson. Mrs. Dillon left her home 
regretting that she felt compelled to go for her health, 
but cheered and supported by the hope of being bene- 
fited by the waters and baths of Nauheim. Mother 
and daughter waved husband and father, relatives 
and friends, farewell from the deck of the steamer as 
it disappeared forever from their view, with about five 
hundred passengers intrusted to the care of its officers 
and crew. On Monday morning, July 4, at 5 a. m., 
the Bourgogne, about sixty miles south of Sable Island, 
came into collision with the Cromartyshire, cutting or 

449 



Hnna price Billon 



tearing off the bow of the latter vessel, the Bourgogne 

receiving a fatal wound, from which, after floating 
for fully forty minutes, she sank, with a loss of life of 
about five hundred and fifty persons. 

On the circumstances and scenes of this frightful 
calamity, so distressing in its incidents and results. 
we have no heart to dwell. But it is a duty to hold 
up to condemnation the conduct of the French com- 
pany which owned the Bourgogne. and to execration 
the conduct of its officers and crew, both at the time 
of the accident and afterward. 

The French company is in fault for the course 
selected for the Bourgogne to take. The principal 
transatlantic steamship lines had before this time 
adopted certain routes which sailing-vessels were 
requested to avoid: but the French company refused 
to accept the>e lines, and the ship was. when the 
accident occurred, many miles out of the proper 
course. 

There was at the time of the collision a dense fog. 
notwithstanding which, and hi violation of the estab- 
lished rules for safe navigation, the Bourgogne was 
proceeding at a rapid and dangerous rate of speed. 
This fact is indisputable, and is demonstrated to be 
true by the physical condition of the Cromarty shire, 
a strongly built iron vessel, whose bow was cut or 
torn off" by the momentum and force of the Bourgogne. 
This was the fault of the officers of the Bourgogne. 
who are responsible for the manner of navigation, and 
the safety of the fives intrusted to then care. 
450 



flDemoir an& /Ifeemorials 



Immediately after the accident the captain and 
chief officers seem to have lost their heads. No disci- 
pline was maintained, and there ensued a scene of 
insubordination, brutality, and cowardice for which no 
language of denunciation can be too strong. It is not 
necessary to go into details and proofs. The duty of 
officers and crew is to maintain discipline, and pri- 
marily to save the passengers, —first of all helpless 
women and children, —and not to abandon these for the 
sake of saving themselves. The record shows that 
this duty was basely neglected. Not one child was 
saved, and only one woman— and she by the exertions 
of her husband. Not one first-cabin passenger was 
saved, man, woman, or child, and only eleven of the 
second-cabin passengers. Two life-boats at least were 
seized by the crew. One of these carried eight sailors 
and no passengers, although it could have brought 
thirty passengers. The other carried only two pas- 
sengers and twenty-eight sailors, but would have held 
forty more persons. The percentages of loss as be- 
tween the crew and passengers make up a shameful 
record: forty-eight per cent, of the crew was saved; 
more than eighty-eight per cent, of the passengers 
perished! For this officers and crew are both to 
blame— the head officers for not enforcing discipline, 
even at the pistol's mouth; the crew for disloyalty 
to duty, for cowardice, and for brutality. 

After the collision the French company was to 
blame for its inhuman neglect at first, and its refusal 
afterward to take any steps to recover the bodies of 
451 



Hnna price Dillon 



the dead, which three or four incoming vessels re- 
ported to be floating in large numbers in the vicinity 
of the scene of the disaster. 

When the French company positively refused to 
send a vessel for this purpose, the husband of Mrs. 
Dillon, and Mr. John Perry of Kansas City, whose 
whole family (consisting of a wife, three daughters, 
and a son) was lost, chartered at Halifax the steamer 
Hiawatha, which, under the direction of Mr. George S. 
Clay, made an ineffectual cruise for ten days to find 
their missing ones. Even at that late period the Hia- 
watha found the bodies of thirty-one persons, some of 
which were identified, and all given a Christian burial 
at sea. It is no satisfaction to expose this record of 
shame on the part of the French line, its officers and 
crew. It is done from a sense of duty. 1 

Here ends this sad story of the tragic death of 
Mrs. Dillon and her daughter. We do not know the 
incidents, so far as respects them personally, of that 
fateful hour. But we feel assured that Mrs. Dillon 
and her daughter, who had a nature as heroic and fine 
as her mother's, did their duty to the end, and met 
their doom bravely and without a murmur, caring not 
for themselves, but only for those who were thus bereft. 

On the Tuesday after Mrs. Dillon sailed, her 
husband, ignorant of the fate which had already 
befallen her, wrote a letter directed to her at Nau- 
heim, which was afterward returned to him. This is 

1 Further details concerning the accident and the conduct of the 
French company, its officers and crew, will be found in the Appendix, 
No. X, p. 473, No. XI, p. 475. 

452 



/iDemoir anb /iDemorials 



given in the note, 1 both because it was his last letter 
to her, and because it shows that she had charged her 
husband to see that the plants, poultry, and cattle did 
not suffer for the want of water in the hot weather 
then prevailing, and, moreover, shows that he well un- 
derstood that her heart was at Knollcrest, though she 
herself was far away. 

To this home she was never to return. All that 
remained to her surviving companion was after- 
ward to complete, as was done, some improvements 
that she had planned, —one of which was an arch 
over the roadway, —and to plant at the appointed time 
and place some trees that she had selected. From 
this home of her heart and love she has gone out for- 

1 To Mrs. John F. Dillon 

195 Broadway, Tuesday, July 5, 1898. 

Mrs. John F. Dillon, Nauheim, Germany, 

care of Koch, Lauteren & Co. 
Dear Wife: 

I take the above address from those on your letter of credit. After I 
bade you good-by I drove to the office and cleared off my desk, and 
went home on the three-fifty train. It was a terribly hot day, as were 
also Sunday and Monday. The mercury stood 106° Sunday and 104° 
Monday on our front piazza. 

I sent Hymie a despatch that the farewell letters had been received 
by you, and that I saw you safely embarked. When I got home Satur- 
day I both saw and felt the difference. The motor power of the house 
was gone ; the wheels were all standing still. There was a persistent 
vacuum, the light seemed extinguished, and I realized that I was alone. 
I found the faithful Tony at work on the gutters, and at night heeded 
your injunction, and saw the trees and plants watered, as I did also 
on Sunday evening. Last night we had a delightful shower, and to-day 
it is comfortably cool. I visited the cows and chickens both days, and 
saw that they had water. Stratton is hard at work on the hay ; the 
upper pasture for the cows is not yet quite done. John, the tramp, came 
back this morning and applied for work, but did not get it. Alfred 
came to see me yesterday. He is out of work, but he made no specific 

453 



Hnna price Dillon 



ever. No eulogy of her who was its animating spirit, 
or of her noble and stainless life, will be here pro- 
nounced. That life as she herself has written it in 
the letters which this volume contains is the best 
eulogy and the only monument she needs. 

Knollcrest, the home of her heart and love, still 
stands, a domestic ruin, with its light gone out, never 
to be relumed; and concerning which he whom she 
left behind, and who with fondest love and care hath 
prepared this imperfect memorial, can only say : 

O palace desolate ! 
O house of houses, once so richly dight ! 
O palace empty and disconsolate ! 
Thou lamp, of which extinguished is the light ! 
O palace, whilom day, that now art night ! 
Thou ought' st to fall, and I to die, since she 
Is gone who held us both in sovereignty. 1 

request. I told him that this fall I would make a bargain with him for 
the trees you wanted planted. 

In the office this morning I found Mr. Cochran of St. Louis, who sails 
at two o'clock to-day. He may see you in Paris or Annie in Carlsbad. 
This morning I found on my table a draft to you from Davenport for a 
dividend on your bank stock. I went to Blair & Co. and got a check on 
Paris for the amount, which I inclose. I also found the railroad ticket 
which you forgot to give me. I received a despatch from John that he 
and his party had reached his destination, Clayton, New York, and that 
all were well. I have heard nothing further from Hymie. 

We have the great news that Cervera's fleet is destroyed, and every- 
body is hoping that this may be the end of the war. The city is gay 
with flags, and the sentiment of " glory " seems to drive away all sadder 
feelings. I shall write you when I can, and you must let me hear from 
you as often as you feel able to write. But do not tire yourself with 
writing long letters. Write a few lines just saying how you are when- 
ever you can. I should like to know how you made the journey on sea 
and land, and how you find yourself situate in Nauheim. Now that 
you are no longer on deck, I will keep a lookout and see as far as I can 
that everything goes right. Affectionately yours, 

John F. Dillon. 

1 Chaucer's " Troilus and Cressida," as modernized by Wordsworth. 
454 



/IDemoir anb /IDemorials 



After all hopes of the recovery of the wife and 
daughter were gone, a memorial religious service 
was held on Tuesday, September 20, 1898, at 1 p. m., 
in the library of the well-loved home at Knoll- 
crest. 1 A special train to Far Hills carried friends 
from a distance. The services were simple and 
impressive, consisting of prayer and anthem, 
dirge and song. In character and details they 
were such as the sorrowing survivors knew would 
accord with the tastes and sentiments of those in 
whose loving memory they were celebrated. Fi- 
nally all the assembly rose, and remained standing 
with bowed heads, while Dr. Greer read the burial 
service, omitting the committal, and with the bene- 
diction the solemn and deeply affecting religious cere- 
monial, fitly held in the home of the heart and love 
of those that had gone, was ended. Ended, and fam- 
ily and friends alike, in the darkness and gloom of 
this sad hour, felt perhaps more profoundly than ever 
before that "Nothing but the infinite pity is suffi- 
cient FOR THE INFINITE PATHOS OF HUMAN LIFE." 

I See Appendix, No. IX, p. 471. 




455 



APPENDIX 

I 

From the Congressional Directory 1 

Second Congressional District of Iowa: Counties 
—Cedar, Clinton, Jackson, Jones, Muscatine, and 
Scott. 

Hiram Price of Davenport was born in Wash- 
ington County, Pennsylvania, January 10, 1814; re- 
ceived a common- school education ; was for some time 
a merchant's clerk, then for a few years a farmer, 
and then a merchant in a small way on his own ac- 
count; removed to Davenport, Iowa, in 1844; was 
elected president of the State Bank of Iowa in 1859, 
and continued in that position until 1866, when the 
several branches were changed to national banks, 
and he closed up their business without the loss of a 
dollar. When the War of the Rebellion broke out, and 
the State had no available funds, he quartered and 
subsisted about five thousand infantry and cavalry 
for several months, at the request of the governor, 

1 See Chapter I, p. 3. For an account of the life and public services 
of Mr. Price see an article by the Hon. B. F. Gue in Vol. I (January, 
1895) of the " Annals of Iowa." 

457 



Bppenfcfe 

from his individual means ; was appointed paymaster- 
general, the only officer of that rank the State has 
ever had. He was elected to the Thirty-eighth Con- 
gress as a Eepublican by over 3000 majority, reelected 
to the Thirty-ninth Congress by over 5000 majority, 
and reelected to the Fortieth Congress by about 7000 
majority, and declined to be a candidate for the Forty- 
first Congress. He was president of the Davenport 
and St. Paul (now the Davenport and Northwestern) 
Eailroad Company, and resigned after a little over 
two years' service. He spent some time in Europe. 
He was nominated, contrary to his expressed wish, for 
the Forty-fifth Congress, and elected as a Republican, 
and was reelected to the Forty-sixth Congress. De- 
clined a reelection. 

II 

Hiram Price to his Daughter, Mrs. John F. 
Dillon x 

Washington, D. C, April 9, 1897. 
Dear Daughter: 

You see by the above that this is April 9, and 
everybody who is rich enough to own an almanac 
knows that. But everybody does n't know that the 
9 th of April was a very important day for at least 
one of the dwellers on the time side of the dark river. 
The 9th of April, 1833, was, in the language of the 
" brother in black," long " befo' de wah." On that 
morning the subscriber, in company with Sam Duff 
as a fellow-traveler, took passage on a board raft 
about forty feet long to fioat down the " classic 
stream ' ' of Stone Creek to the town of Huntingdon. 

i See Chapter I, p. 4. 

458 



Hppen&te 

Previous to starting, in order to secure a sufficient 
depth of water to make raft navigation safe, the dif- 
ferent mill-dams on the creek had been temporarily- 
raised by placing planks on edge on the top of the 
breast of each of the dams, so that when a dam was 
reached we simply knocked off the planks, and the 
imprisoned water rushed onward, carrying Sam and 
his fellow-traveler toward the blue Juniata. By the 
way, in order to ' ' vindicate the truth of history, ' ' I 
ought to state that Sam was the sole owner of the 
raft, and I was simply a passenger carried free for 
my services in managing the raft. 

The dangers encountered on that voyage would, 
if recorded, fill a good-sized volume, provided always 
(as gentlemen of the legal profession would say) that 
the imagination was liberally drawn upon for mate- 
rial. But sometimes facts are stranger than fiction, 
and as I am only dealing with facts, I shall not invade 
the realm of fiction. 

At one point in our way down the creek we had to 
pass under a foot-log. Do you ask what a foot-log is? 
I answer, it is simply the body of a tree, long or 
short, according as the stream of water to be crossed 
is broad or narrow, hewn on the upper side to make a 
flat surface upon which sober people can safely walk. 
Well, in our trip down the creek, having knocked off 
the splash-boar is of several dams, quite a flood was 
in the stream; so when we came to a foot-log near 
Foster's mill the creek was so swollen that it was 
evident my chest would not pass under the foot-log. 
Sam and I went forward to the end of the raft, I with 
my chest in my arms. Sam was to jump over the 
foot-log, and I was to hand him the chest. Well, he 
jumped, as stipulated, but while he kept the contract 
as to fr'me, he did not as to place, for instead of land- 

459 



Bppen&fe 

ing on the forward end of the raft so as to receive the 
chest from me, he landed ahead of the raft in the 
water, and the raft ran upon and over him, leaving 
me with my chest in my arms on the wrong side of 
the foot-log ; and as the raft kept going I kept back- 
ing, loaded with the chest, until it became clear that 
something decisive had to be done, and done at once, 
or all of my worldly belongings would help to swell 
the driftwood of Stone Creek. 

Now, that raft did not carry " Caesar and his for- 
tunes," but it did carry all of my surplus wearing 
apparel, amounting in cash value to about sixteen sil- 
ver dollars (which according to New York financiers 
was worth only about eight dollars). But it was my 
all, and something (desperate, if need be) must be 
done to save it. So, summoning up all my reserve 
physical force, I jumped, with my little wooden chest 
in my arms, for the other side of the foot-log, and 
when I gathered myself and my belongings together 
on the safe side of that foot-log and looked back, I 
saw Duff just emerging from under the end of the 
raft, it having ran its entire length over him, and he 
climbed upon the rear end, on the safe side of, not the 
Eubicon, but the foot-log. It is not necessary to say 
that he was as wet as the proverbial drowned rat, but he 
apparently suffered no visible damage, although he was 
without any change of clothes on that cool April day. 

So this, in brief, is how I reached the town of 
Huntingdon on my journey to my financial Canaan. 

I remained that night at Jackson's Tavern in Hunt- 
ingdon, had supper, bed, and breakfast, and my bill 
in the morning for all this was just fifty cents. On 
leaving home the morning of the 9th, my father 
gave me one whole silver dollar; and now, after pay- 
ing my tavern bill, I had just fifty cents left. The 

460 



Hppenbis 

balance of my journey to Williamsburg, twenty-one 
miles, I made on foot, reaching my destination about 
two o'clock, with my fifty cents all in my pocket. 
Some days afterward my chest came by canal-boat 
to Williamsburg. If I had waited on Stone Creek 
until I could have paid my expenses to Williamsburg 
in gold, I might have been fishing for chubs and sun- 
fish in Stone Creek yet. So you see silver helped me 
to start in the battle of life, and I would be an ingrate 
to desert to the enemy now. 

The ninth day of April is to the ordinary traveler on 
life's highway of no more importance than any other 
day ; but to me it is one of the red-letter days which 
I keep in remembrance. This day sixty-four years 
ago seems but as yesterday to me, I remember well 
every hour of that day, and how little, or rather how 
absolutely nothing, I knew of the sixty-four years of 
life that lay beyond me. If on that day I could have 
looked down the vista of time, and seen an old man 
of over eighty-three years of age sitting at his desk in 
a house of his own in the capital city of the nation, I 
would have supposed him to be some octogenarian 
with whom I was not acquainted. 

Affectionately your father, 
H. Price. 



Ill 

Hiram Price to his Daughter, Mrs. John F. Dillon 1 

Washington, D. C, March 2, 1886: 
Dear Daughter : 

Yours of the 28th of February (I suppose it would 
look more learned to say " ultimo ") was received yes- 

l See Chapter I, p. 8. 
461 



HppenMj 

terday, and the napkins to-day, for which I am much 
obliged. 

Forty-five years ago this morning I left the State 
of Ohio on horseback, leading two other horses— your 
mother and you and Buzz and Mary, with a few 
pieces of furniture and a couple of beds, following in 
Dan Teter's two-horse wagon. The first day was 
bright and pleasant, but the rest of the time (thirteen 
days) it snowed or sleeted constantly, and it appeared 
to come all the time in my face. The last night be- 
fore reaching Hollidaysburg we stayed at the western 
base of Laurel Hill— a foot-hill of the Alleghany 
Mountains. Mary was a baby about six months old, 
and ill, so we got no sleep. About midnight some- 
thing had to be done for her. I got up and tried to 
make a fire, but there was nothing to make it with. I 
went down-stairs and out of doors to hunt for the wood- 
pile. I found the woodpile, but no ax. I kicked 
around in the snow, which was over two feet deep (no 
moon, no stars), and at last was fortunate enough to 
find an ax. I chopped some wood, carried it up and 
made a fire, and together we nursed the baby until 
morning. The next day we crossed the mountains in 
snow nearly three feet deep, and reached Hollidays- 
burg that night. 

Oh, distinctly do I remember how patient and 
uncomplaining your mother was all these years, 
and how she helped me in every possible way» And 
how I would like to talk it all over with her now ! But 
I must wait until I get on the other side. I suppose 
I ought not to complain, for I have had my share of 
sunshine, and I must bide my time. 

In reviewing this and the other incidents of my life, 
two things stand out prominently and clearly in the 
foreground: First and most important, your mother 

462 



Bppenbfe 

bore all the difficulties and privations through which 
we passed heroically, bravely, cheerfully, and with- 
out a murmur. Second, I had a constitution and 
powers of endurance possessed by but few men. And 
thus we fought the battle of life. 
Good-by. 

Affectionately your father, 

H. Price. 

IV 

Hiram Price to his Daughter, Mrs. John F. Dillon x 

Washington, D. C, November 6, 1892. 
Dear Daughter: 

Forty-eight years ago this morning, about ten 
o'clock, I landed, with my belongings, on the west 
bank of the Father of Waters at Davenport, in what 
was then one of the Territories of the United States, 
and which a few years afterward became the State 
of Iowa. This embryo town looked quiet and peace- 
ful. I was not welcomed by any public demonstra- 
tion, but simply allowed to land and take my chances 
for weal or woe with those who had pioneered the 
way. What few inhabitants were there seemed able 
to endure a good deal of rest, and did not seem to 
care much whether school kept or*hot. 

While I was busy in moving my goods and chattels 
from the bank of the river (there were no other banks 
there) I was accosted by one of the natives, whose 
outward adorning consisted in part of an old cloth 
cap placed jauntily on one side of his head, and one 
leg of his pantaloons inside and one outside of his 
rusty boots. He seemed to be concerned for my wel- 

i See Chapter I, p. 10. 
463 



fare, and, after eying me with apparent curiosity 
and concern, he inquired where I was from and what 
my boxes contained, to which I answered, in as polite 
Saxon as I could command, that I was from Pennsyl- 
vania, and that the boxes contained some household 
goods, and some different kinds of merchandise, desig- 
nated in common parlance as "store goods." To 
which he replied in good plain English that I had 
come to the wrong place, and had better go back, for, 
said he: "I came from Pennsylvania, and brought 
thirty thousand dollars' worth of goods with me, and 
I have been swindled out of all I had, and I now want 
to get back to the old State. " " Well, ' ' I said, " I ' ve 
come a long distance, and it has taken me from the 
10th of October to this sixth day of November to get 
here. My cash means are exhausted, so I 'm obliged to 
remain here at least until the winter is over and the 
bluebirds herald the coming of warm weather." I 
might have answered poetically, and said, " Until the 
springtime comes, gentle Mr. Fisher." 

You see, his name was Fisher, and he was familiarly 
known as " old Sam Fisher," although, viewed from 
my present standpoint, he was not very old. Fisher 
was, on some subjects, particularly on geography, a 
well-informed man, and as a conversationalist very 
interesting, but as a business man and financier an 
utter failure ; and the world has a multitude of such 
men, good for some one thing, and good for nothing 
outside of that one thing. I suppose that is the rea- 
son why somebody— I don't know who— wrote: 

One science only will one genius fit, 
So vast is art, so narrow human wit. 

Davenport, as I first saw it, was a good place for a 
poor man who had any snap in him. Eents, fuel, 

464 



Bppenfc>i£ 

and provisions were obtainable for a very small 
amount of ' ' filthy lucre. ' ' It was a small place, 
but had a large proportion of empty houses. This 
was bad for the town, but good for me just at 
that time, for I was able to rent for ten dollars per 
month a brick house containing room enough for my 
family, and also a good-sized store-room with shelv- 
ing, counters, etc., complete, also a woodhouse and 
brick stable, and all inclosed with a good paling 
fence. While busy in my shirt-sleeves that bright, 
warm November day, moving into my rented prem- 
ises, I had to pass, in going to and from the steamboat- 
landing, the corner of Brady and Front streets, which 
was then occupied by old Gilbert McKown as a store 
without goods and consequently without customers. 
But the old gentleman sat in front of the building, 
coatless and hatless, as a sort of make-believe. He was 
also a Pennsylvanian, and he gave me about the same 
encouragement that Fisher had; so, judging from 
their statements, Davenport seemed to be a bad place 
for Pennsylvanians. Such was my introduction to 
Davenport forty-eight years ago. I managed, how- 
ever, to live and moderately thrive, all these ominous 
warnings and predictions to the contrary notwith- 
standing. 

At this writing there are only three men now alive 
in Davenport who were there when I first set foot 
upon its soil; to wit, Israel Hall, A. C. Fulton, and 
John Forrest. When I first went to Davenport I 
could buy quails dressed at thirty-seven and a half 
cents per dozen. Now it requires about two dollars 
to procure as many. But it is about as easy to get 
two dollars now as it was to get thirty-seven and 
a half cents then, so the result is about the same; and 
so far as I am personally concerned, I can pay the 

465 



Bppenfcfe 

two dollars now easier than I could the thirty-seven 
and a half cents then. In this, as in thousands of 
cases, comparison and contrast furnish the only sen- 
sible and correct solution. 

Two days from now the free and intelligent people 
of these United States will decide who is to occupy 
the White House for the next four years. I 've little 
to say or do in the matter. I can't say, as Goldsmith's 
man did, " Whatever king may reign, I '11 be vicar of 
Bray, sir." But I shall enjoy my granola all the 
same. 

Affectionately your father, 

H. Price. 

V 

Mrs. Anna Reed Wilkinson to John F. Dillon x 

168 Bowen Street, Providence, Rhode Island, 
October 21, 1899. 
My dear Friend : 

Your note to my sister Mary wishing data con- 
nected with Mrs. Dillon's youthful days has been re- 
ceived. As both she and I were my sister's senior 
by six or more years,— which at that time seemed far 
more,— she has delegated to me the pleasant and sad 
task of recalling, as best I can, the events of those 
days. By comparing our recollections we have ar- 
rived at some exact or probable dates for certain events. 

The history of Anna Margery Price's school life 
from the autumn of 1845 to 1853 is coincident with 
my own, for my father 2 became a resident of Daven- 

1 See Chapter I, p. 12. 

2 The Rev. Julius A. Reed, the father also of Mrs. Mary Reed Smith, 
wife of Hon. S. Frank Smith, and who is often mentioned in this 
volume. 

466 



Hppenfcia: 

port in the former year. Our first school-days were 
passed in a small brick building on the south side of 
Fourth Street, between Harrison and Main, which has 
been torn down within the past year. The school 
was taught by Mrs. Prescott. In time Mr. Prescott 
built the wooden house which long stood on the north- 
west corner of Fourth and Perry streets, and was 
used for a school of various grades for many years 
after. Both Mr. and Mrs. Prescott were members of 
the Congregational Church, and respected and be- 
loved in the town. 

In 1847, as near as we can fix the date, Miss Ber- 
gen came from New England to my father's home, 
which also became her home while she was in Daven- 
port. A typical New England character, always 
true to her convictions, concealing the amiable side of 
her many virtues, she was well fitted for advanced 
classes of young ladies, but to this estate, unfortu 
nately for her, the " Annas " had not arrived, nor had 
Maggie Donaldson, Maria Owens, Elvira Brown, or 
Amanda Cowperthwaite and others. For some time 
she taught in the old Presbyterian Church on the north 
side of Third Street, between Main and Harrison. 
The school was afterward removed to an unoccupied 
dwelling-house on the east side of Brady Street, below 
Fifth. The " young ladies' department " at this time 
included several whom you doubtless remember : Vir- 
ginia McKown, Lizzie Donaldson, and Ellen McManus. 
The juniors were not yet a source of unalloyed satis- 
faction to either teacher or young ladies. Especially 
was this true on Wednesday afternoons, when the 
friends were invited in to hear and be heard. Occa- 
sionally some young lawyer would also improve the 
opportunity to display his oratorical skill. After the 
lapse of these many years, the memory of one such 

467 



scene rises vividly before me. Young Lawyer Firor 
rose to the occasion with much hesitation, and, after 
an introduction, quite forgotten, affirmed " that 
young ladies should cultivate affections of the heart, 
so as to be susceptible to any impressions that might 
be made," which sentiments so amused some of the 
juniors that audible smiles so discomfited the young 
man that he at once took his seat. In after years 
we learned to appreciate Miss Bergen's good qualities, 
and strove to make amends for the past, only regret- 
ting that she had not sooner learned the secret of 
winning the wide-awake young Westerners. 

Sometime, I think, in 1848-49 Miss Susan Jones of 
Woodstock, Vermont, came to Iowa, in company with 
several young lady teachers. One went to Dubuque, 
two to Muscatine. Davenport was fortunate in secur- 
ing Miss Susan Jones, a brilliant young woman who 
had taught in New England and in the South. She soon 
became popular with parents and pupils, and happily 
aroused their enthusiasm and cooperation. She was 
a devout churchwoman. Anna Price was one of her 
pupils. In 1851 or '52 she married Captain Dodge 
of Buffalo. Her sister Eliza, who joined her before 
1850, also taught, and after her sister's death became 
the third wife of Captain Dodge, and she is now also 
dead. I visited their beautiful old home among the 
Vermont hills in 1896, and heard letters read in which 
pleasant mention was made of " Mrs. Eeed and her 
little daughters Anna and Mary." 

The years from 1850 to 1853 were spent in Miss 
Jones's school, and in one established by the Misses 
Harriet and Matilda Gilruth, daughters of a Methodist 
clergyman. This was before the days of fine school 
buildings, of which Davenport is now so justly proud; 
and this " young ladies' school," held in high esteem 

468 



throughout the State, was kept in the second story of 
what was then known as the old Medical College, on the 
southwest corner of Brady and Third streets. Chris- 
tian character and true culture were combined in the 
Misses Gilruth, who awakened every latent talent, 
and inspired their pupils with a love for all that 
was good and true. 

These bits of history may be of interest some fu- 
ture day to grandchildren who will deem it passing 
strange that the grand, beautiful woman whom they 
regard with so much love and admiration could ever 
have been the frolicsome child and merry girl who had 
a part in it all. None of her classmates filled positions 
of greater responsibility in both social and domestic 
life, and none, I am sure, could have more bravely 
and nobly performed the duties which were hers as 
daughter, sister, wife, and mother. They who knew 
her best honored her most, and the blinding sorrow 
which robbed her home of its heart and light has 
touched with deepest grief the hearts of her many 
friends. Believe me, 

Very sincerely, 

Anna Reed Wilkinson. 

VI * 

Minute of Board of Trustees of Barnard 
College 1 

At a meeting of the Board of Trustees of Barnard 
College, held October 12, 1898, it was 

Resolved, That the Board of Trustees of Barnard 
College regret deeply the loss to the Associate Mem- 
bers caused by the death of Mrs. John F. Dillon, who 

1 See Chapter I, p. 13. 
469 



Bppent>i£ 

was one of Barnard's earliest, most influential and 
constant friends ; and that the secretary be directed 
to convey to Judge Dillon the sympathy of the Board 
for his great affliction. 



VII 

Minute of the Trustees of St. Bernard's Parish 1 

Whereas, the Hon. John F. Dillon, a member of the 
Parish of St. Bernard's, has erected in St. Bernard's 
Church, in said Parish, a beautiful organ, to the glory 
of God and in memory of his wife, Anna Price 
Dillon, and his daughter, Anne Dillon Oliver, who 
perished by the sinking of the steamship La Bour- 
gogne, July 4, 1898 ; 

Now, therefore, be it Resolved, That the Trustees 
record upon their minutes and express to the said 
Hon. John F. Dillon their warm appreciation of his 
generous and pious act, and the deep and abiding 
sympathy of the Parish with him and his family in 
the loss of the loved ones whose memory is thus fit- 
tingly commemorated. 

VIII 

Minute of the Davenport Library Association 2 

The Board of Trustees and Members of the Daven- 
port Library Association have learned with profound 
sorrow of the untimely and tragic death of Anna 
Price Dillon, an ex-president and long-time trustee 
and member of this Association, and of her daughter, 

1 See Chapter I, p. 29. 2 See Chapter I, p. 33. 

470 



Bppenfcis 

Anne Dillon Oliver, who were among the lost in that 
appalling disaster, the destruction of the ocean liner 
La Bourgogne. 

The Trustees and Members of this Library will long 
remember Mrs. Dillon's efficient labors in its behalf, 
and her useful and admirable life in Davenport; and 
they offer to her bereaved husband, Judge John F. 
Dillon, and his surviving children, and also to her 
venerable father, the Hon. Hiram Price, himself a 
benefactor of the Library, this expression of sincere 
condolence. 



IX 

From the New York " World," September 21, 1898 

memorial services for wife and daughter 1 

Eeligious services in memory of Mrs. John F. Dil- 
lon and her daughter Mrs. Dillon Oliver, who were 
lost at sea on the steamship La Bourgogne, were held 
yesterday at Knollcrest, the country home at Far 
Hills, New Jersey, of ex-Judge John F. Dillon. A spe- 
cial train left the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western 
station at Hoboken at 10 :45 a. m. , carrying nearly one 
hundred persons to unite with the venerable jurist in 
paying tribute to the memory of the dead. A score 
of carriages and stages carried the people to the home 
of mourning, a veritable rural palace, situated on a 
commanding knoll a mile from the station. At the 
house were ex- Judge Dillon, his sons Hiram and John 
and their wives, and Mr. and Mrs. Warriner of Paris, 
the latter the judge's one surviving daughter. 

i See Chapter XI, p. 455. 
471 



Bppenbfe 

At the residence also was the Eev. J. C. Hall of 
St. Bernard's Church, Bernardsville, the country rec- 
tor of the. family. With the train party was the Eev. 
Dr. David H. Greer of St. Bartholomew's Church, 
New York, the family's city rector. Dr. Greer was 
accompanied by the quartet choir of his church, and 
the organist, William Henry Warren. There was also 
a string orchestra of fourteen instruments, under the 
direction of Professor Fleck. 

The services were held in the library of the house. 
On the wall were portraits of Mrs. Dillon and Mrs. 
Oliver in a framing of splendid orchids. 

Nearly two hundred people assembled in the library, 
many having come from near-by towns. There were 
many men and women in the garments of the poor, for 
Mrs. Dillon had been a Lady Bountiful, celebrated alike 
for her charity and for the joyousness of her nature. 
Before the spacious fireplace sat grouped the family 
servants, a score of them. Dr. Greer and Mr. Hall 
stood in the middle of the far end of the room, a small 
table answering for an altar. Before them were the 
afiiicted family, relatives and friends, the singers and 
musicians on either side. 

The hush was broken by the gentle swelling of music 
in a minor chord, as Chopin's "Funeral March," 
specially arranged by Professor Fleck for this service, 
was played by the orchestra. The beauty of the music 
of the dirge was greatly enhanced by the harp accom- 
paniment. After that Mme. Clementine de Yere 
sang the "Intermezzo," with the violin obligato, 
which was played by Kaltenborn. 

As all arose and remained standing, the burial ser- 
vice of the Episcopal Church, from which was omitted 
the committal, was read. To the familiar tunes the 
choir, accompanied by an organ and several harps, 

472 



Hppenfcis 

sang " Jesus, Lover of my Soul," Tennyson's " Cross- 
ing the Bar," and " There is a Blessed Home." Then 
the benediction was said, and the unique and touching 
religious ceremonial was ended. Immediately after 
the service the string quartet played the " Cantabile," 
from Tschaikowsky, and Handel's "Largo," which 
were favorites of Mrs. Dillon and her daughter, and 
selected as being specially appropriate. 



X 

From the New York " World," August 4, 1898 1 

Ex-Judge John F. Dillon, whose wife and daughter 
were lost on the French liner the Bourgogne, dictated 
the following statement to a " World ' ' reporter yester- 
day: 

" The next day after I learned of the accident I 
took steps by inquiring at Halifax to know whether it 
was practicable to recover the bodies. My first ad- 
vices were that it was thought that La Bourgogne 
had sunk very suddenly in one thousand fathoms 
of water where there were strong currents, and that 
an effort to recover the bodies would be unsuccessful. 

" When, however, on July 25, the steamer Oilfields, 
Captain Shawyer, reported having passed between one 
hundred and fifty and two hundred bodies of persons 
who were aboard the Bourgogne, giving the exact 
latitude and longitude, and that he made the entry 
on his log-book and called his officers and crew to 
witness the bodies, I called the attention of the agents 
of the French line in this city to the fact, stating that 
I had an appointment to meet Captain Shawyer on 

1 See Chapter XI, pp. 449-452. 

473 



Hppenfcte 

Saturday, July 25, in Philadelphia, at four o'clock, 
to verify these statements. I asked the French line to 
have a representative present at that time, which the 
agent of that line promised to do. My representative, 
George S. Clay, was present, and Captain Shawyer of 
the Oilfields confirmed the report in every particular, 
and stated that at the time he passed them the bodies 
were capable of identification. 

" The French company failed to have anybody pres- 
ent at the interview with Captain Shawyer, as they 
had promised. When I obtained this specific infor- 
mation from Captain Shawyer, I stated to the French 
line manager that the situation imperatively required 
that it should make an immediate effort to recover all 
the bodies— not a portion, but all. 

' ' The agent here took time to cable to Paris, and 
reported to me on July 26 that chartering a steamer 
would be useless, recovery of the bodies impracticable, 
and identification now impossible. How could they 
say this in Paris, in the face of Captain Shawyer' s 
specific statement to the contrary? 

" Shortly afterward another vessel arrived here, re- 
porting the same condition of affairs, and the Western- 
land is the fourth or fifth that has made similar 
reports. 

"When the French company refused to make any 
effort whatever to recover the bodies, I determined, if 
possible, to charter a vessel to recover the remains 
of my family who were lost, in which effort Mr. 
John Perry of Kansas City joined, whose entire 
family, consisting of a wife, three daughters, and a 
son, perished in this frightful calamity. The Hiawa- 
tha, chartered by Mr. Perry and myself, cannot un- 
dertake to recover all the bodies, and the duty of the 
French company is all the more imperative because 

474 



Hppenfcte 

private individuals cannot render this service. When 
I appealed to the French company to charter a ves- 
sel or vessels to recover all the bodies, I said to the 
agent that I would bear any portion of the expense 
that he thought proper. 

"I blame the French company for the disaster. 
The vessel was many miles out of the safe, the pre • 
scribed, the proper course. She was proceeding in a 
dense fog at a dangerous rate of speed, in violation of 
the rules of safe navigation. 

"After the disaster occurred it is evident that the 
captain lost his head. There was no discipline ; utter 
insubordination prevailed. Only one woman was 
saved, and she not by the aid of the crew, but in 
spite of it. Not a single child was saved. Not a 
single first-class passenger was saved, and compara 
tively few of any class. On the other hand, the few 
boats that were lowered were seized and practically 
monopolized by the crew, half of whom were saved, 
and among the bodies seen since the disaster, a large 
portion of the crew had on life-preservers." 



XI 

From the Halifax (Nova Scotia) "Chronicle," 
August 8, 1898 

"hiawatha's" return from her search for dead 
bodies. mr. george s. clay's statement. 1 

The steamer Hiaivatha returned to Halifax last 
night, after a search, occupying ten days, for the re- 
mains of Mrs. John F. Dillon and Mrs. Dillon Oliver 

i See Chapter XI, p. 452. 

475 



Bppenfcfe 

of New York, and Mrs. John Perry, the three Misses 
Perry, and Master Perry of Kansas City, who were 
among the victims of the Bourgogne- Cromarty shire 
sea tragedy. The Hiawatha party, which was in 
charge of George S. Clay of New York, with Dr. 
H. S. Jacques of this city as medical assistant, failed 
to accomplish its first object, though it succeeded in 
finding a large number of bodies, some being identi- 
fied and all given burial at sea, after the clothing on 
them had been thoroughly examined and marks of 
identification removed and preserved. 

The Hiaicatha found altogether thirty-one bodies, 
but not one answered to the description of the per- 
sons to find whom was the primary object of the ex- 
pedition. Immediately upon the steamer's arrival at 
the mouth of the harbor, last evening, she was boarded 
by a " Chronicle " reporter, to whom Mr. Clay, man- 
ager of the expedition for ex-Judge Dillon of New 
York and John Perry of Kansas City, gave the fol- 
lowing account of the voyage and its results. His 
official statement is as follows : 

"I may say, in opening this account of the voyage 
of the Hiawatha, that, from my experience of the 
past ten days, I can assure the people interested 
that had the Compagnie-Generale Transatlantique 
acted promptly after the receipt of the report by 
the captain of the steamer Oilfields at Philadelphia, 
and despatched a steamship to search for and recover 
the bodies passed by the Oilfields, the remains of the 
victims then found could have been identified by their 
friends. It was not until after the Compagnie-Gene- 
rale Transatlantique had refused the request of Judge 
Dillon to send a steamer to recover all the bodies 
that the expedition of the Hiawatha was undertaken. 
When Judge Dillon read in the newspapers the report 

476 



that the steamer Oilfields had passed at sea one 
hundred and fifty or two hundred corpses, he at 
once communicated with the officials of the French 
line, and urged them to send out a steamer to recover 
what bodies could be found. On Saturday, July 25, 
I went to Philadelphia and saw Captain Shawyer, 
who told me the full story, and said that he had passed 
bodies for a distance of twenty-five miles. He made 
the statement to me that, had he known any people 
on the lost steamer, he could have identified them if 
their remains were among those he passed at sea. 
Captain Shawyer gave me the position of his steamer 
at the time the bodies were seen by him, which was 
latitude 42° 50' N., longitude 59° 40' W. 

" I was with Captain Shawyer from 4 p. m. to 5:45 
p. m. , and up to the time I left him no representative 
of the French line had been to see him. I reported to 
Judge Dillon the result of my inquiries, and he re- 
quested me to proceed to Halifax and charter a 
steamer to go on this expedition. When I reached 
Halifax, Mr. George E. Francklyn, the Halifax agent 
of the French line, communicated with the agent at 
New York, stating how much it would cost to send a 
steamer in search of bodies, and asked for instructions. 
Judge Dillon also told me before I left New York that 
he intended to see the officials of the French line in 
reference to sending a steamer out to search. Mr. 
Francklyn informed me that the French company 
would not send out a steamer. Mr. Bocande, general 
manager of the French line, telegraphed to me, July 
26, as follows: 

George S. Clay, Halifax : 

My company cables anxious to satisfy relatives, but 
chartering steamer useless. Recovery of bodies imprac- 

47? 



ticable, and identification now impossible. Accept my 
sincere regrets. Bocande. 

"Judge Dillon received the same advices, and he 
thereupon telegraphed to me to secure a steamer and 
set out on the expedition. 

' ' With the information obtained from the captain 
of the Oilfields, and with the information as to the 
position of the Bourgogne and the Cromartyshire at 
the time of the collision, which Captain Henderson of 
the sailing-ship reported was latitude 42° 50' N., longi- 
tude 59° 50' W., I completed arrangements for the 
trip. I felt that it would be necessary to take a phy- 
sician to assist in identifying the bodies in case we 
should have to examine them for particular marks, or 
with respect to the condition of the teeth, etc. ; and 
also to take other assistants besides the steamer's 
crew. 0. W. McKee, of the Western Union, inter- 
ested Dr. Jacques, who consented to accompany the 
party. ..." 

Mr. Clay's report gives a detailed description of 
the finding of thirty-one bodies, some of whom, even 
at that late day, could have been identified. 



XII 

From the Kansas City " Star," August 15, 1898 

the "bourgogne" disaster. hon. w. c. perry's 
statement 1 

W. C. Perry, brother of John Perry, whose family 
was drowned on the Bourgogne, July 4, returned this 

i See Chapter XI, p. 452. 
478 



morning from his trip in search of their remains. Mr. 
Perry confirms the reports already published as to 
the finding of upward of thirty bodies, but none he 
was looking for was found. He criticizes the officers 
of the Bourgogne for negligence in navigating the 
ship, denounces the crew for its conduct after the col- 
lision, and arraigns the French line for not attempt- 
ing to recover the bodies. Mr. Perry said: 

" I had hoped that this sad chapter in the lives of 
my brother's family had closed to the public, but the 
astounding information in Saturday's despatches— 
that the French government had crowned, or proposed 
to crown, as heroes some of the craven crew of the 
Bourgogne— makes it my duty to tell the truth to the 
American people. 

"The catastrophe occurred in a dense fog. The 
Bourgogne, when the collision took place, was rush- 
ing through the water at breakneck speed, The 
physical condition of the Cromartyshire, which I saw, 
demonstrates that fact. More than twenty-five feet 
of the bow of that stout iron ship were literally cut 
away. Only a tremendous weight would have pro- 
duced such a result. The Cromartyshire is a sailing- 
vessel, about one fourth the size of the Bourgogne, 
but very strongly built. 

4 ' In less than twenty minutes after the collision 
the first life-boat from the Bourgogne reached the 
Cromartyshire with eight sailors in it. These were 
about enough to man her. They could have brought 
with them thirty passengers, but their clothing was 
not even wet, and the Bourgogne did not sink for 
half an hour after they had left her. Shortly after- 
ward another life-boat reached the Cromartyshire. 
She contained twenty- eight sailors and two pas- 
sengers, and the boat would have held forty more. 

479 



Hppenfcis 

After these ' heroes ' had assisted in the work of 
clearing the Cromartyshire of wreckage they refused 
to assist in succoring the passengers from the Bour- 
gogne (then visible, the fog having lifted), until the 
captain of the Cromartyshire threatened to throw 
them into the sea. Fifty-five per cent, of the crew 
were saved, and ninety- one per cent, of the passengers 
drowned. 

1 ' After the accident, the French company refused 
to rescue the bodies known to be floating at sea. 
Judge Dillon, who lost his wife and daughter, made 
an engagement with the representative of the com- 
pany to meet the captain of the Oilfields, who first 
reported passing the bodies. This engagement the 
company did not keep. To my brother's representa- 
tive the same agent excused his company from 
searching for the bodies, on the pretext that the cap- 
tain of the Oilfields stated that the recovery was im- 
practicable. This agent never saw the captain of 
the Oilfields, and had no report from him ; on the con- 
trary, Captain Shawyer said that the bodies he saw 
could have been recognized. 

" The French company's conduct was mercenary, 
inhuman, and shocking." 




480 



Inbey 



INDEX 



Abbeys : Melrose, 85, 94, 120, 121 ; 

Dry burgh, 91, 94, 109, 122 ; Muck- 

ross, 108 ; Westminster, 109, 123 
Abbotsford, 85, 94, 109, 121 
Addison, quoted, 123 
Aix-les-Bains, visited, 350, 365, 

368, 370, 371 
Alaska, visited, 390, 398, 399, 401 
Albert Memorial, 124 
Allen, Gerard B., Mrs., 179 
Altman, Mrs., 224 
Amadeo. See Castelar 
Amsterdam, visited, 97 ff., 100 
Appian Way, 159, 290 
Aqueduct, Claudian, 150, 159 
Arc de Triomphe, 250 
Armor, Samuel G., Dr., 273 
Art, love Of, 42, 47, 49, 50, 132, 148, 

249, 294, 296, 297 
Association, Christian, 81, 175 
Association, Ladies' Temperance, 

81 
Association, Library, work in, 33, 

35, 79, 81, 101, 201, 470 
Association, Mount Vernon, 61 
Atala, 131, 249 
Auerbach, 109 

Babcock, General, 88 

Baden-Baden, 48, 408 

Baker, Mrs., 21 

Ballord, Mrs., 34 

Barnard, J. F., Mrs., xiv, 34, 103, 

134, 208, 329, 391, 396 
Barnard College, 13, 415, 469 
Barrow, Mrs. (Aunt Fanny), 213 
Basel, 408 

Baths of Caracalla, 150 
Bauer, Dr., 202-204 
Beecher, Henry Ward, 84 
Belfast, 84, 94, 118 
Belknap, General, 242, 247 
Bellaggio, 300 



Benton, Thomas H., 199 
Bergen, Miss, 11, 467, 468 
Bern, 97, 105, 110, 129 
Betts, Susan. See Price, Susan 

Betts 
Bills, John C, 427, 434, 436 
Bills, Mrs., 52, 138, 188, 392, 395, 

409; letters to, 139 ff., 321, 358, 

361, 362, 374, 385, 393, 403, 412, 419, 

422, 423, 425, 433-435, 438, 443 
Birth, parentage, and early life of 

Mrs. Dillon, 1, 5-13 
Blarney Castle, 90, 93 
Bourgoqne, steamer, 444, 447 ; loss 

Of, 449-453, 473-480 
Brown, Susie. See Dillon, Susie 

Brown 
Burrows, Julia, 13 
Burrows, Mrs., 145 
Burt, Mr. and Mrs., 211 
Burtis House, 176 
Burton, Mrs., 33, 116, 137 
" Butter Tower*," 125 
" Buzz." See Price, Milton M. 

California, visited, 391, 401. See 
Los Angeles 

Cambridge, 408 

Camerer, Dr., 261, 262, 273 

Cameron, Mrs. Scott, 382 

Campbell, Hugh, Mrs., 186, 196 

Campbell, Robert, Mrs., 186 

Canterbury, 408 

Capri, 160 

Carlsbad, 300-307, 316, 335, 340, 351, 
378-381, 407, 408 

Carnegie, Andrew, 310 

Castelar, Emilio,letter from, 85 ft. 

Castellamare, 88, 153, 154, 159 

Cathedrals : Canterbury, 408 ; Co- 
logne, 112, 234 ; Cork, 108 ; Milan, 
105, 111; St. Mark's, 297-299; 
York, 122 



483 



flnbes 



Centennial Celebration United 
States Supreme Court, 317 

Centennial Exposition, 170 ff. 

Chapin, Mrs., 409 

Chapman, Mrs., 200 

Charcot, Dr., 229, 242, 245, 248 

Charitable organizations, work 
in, 30 ff. 

Chaucer, quoted, 49, 454 

Chillon, castle, 96, 104 

Choate, Judge, Mrs., 246 

Church relationships, 27, 30 

Claudian Aqueduct, 150, 159 

Clay, George S., 452, 475, 478 

Clear Lake, 72 

Cleveland, Mrs. Grover, 317 

Clionian Society, 43, 80 

College, Barnard. See Barnard 
College 

Collier, H. Price, 210 

Collier, Levin D., 323 

Collier, Louise Price, 284, 312 

Collier, Mary, 312 

Collier, Mary Price, 2, 7, 23, 462 ; 
death, 23, 73; chapel in mem- 
ory of, 207 

Collier, Robert Laird, 70, 71 

Colly er, Rev. Dr., 28 

Cologne Cathedral, 112, 234 

Colorado, 400, 403 

Colosseum, 150 

Columbia College, 177, 201, 364 

Como, Lake, 300" 

Cook, Ebenezer, Mrs., 34, 35, 200 

Coolidge, Mr., 375 

Corbin, Austin, 303 

Corbin, Mrs. Dan, 261 

Cork, visited, 84, 90, 93, 108, 118 

Corse, General and Mrs., 253, 254 

Darling, May, 238, 285, 288 

Daughters, school in Paris, 85, 96, 
104 

Davenport, described, 10, 11 ; vis- 
ited and mentioned, 227, 313- 
315, 325, 327, 391, 395, 464, 465 

Denver, 314, 321, 391, 403 

Dillon, Anna Price, birth and 
early life, 1-13; removal to 
Iowa, 10; education, classmates, 
and schools, 11-13, 466-469 ; mar- 
riage, 14, 15; different homes, 
15; household, 26 ; church rela- 
tions, 27 ff.; charitable work, 30 
ff. ; work in Library Associa- 
tion, 33, 35, 79, 81, 101, 201, 470; 
various associations, interest 
in: Mount Vernon, 51; Chris- 
tian, 81, 175; Exchange for 
Woman's Work, 32, 219 ; Ladies' 
Hahnemann Hospital, 32, 315; 
Ladies' Temperance, 81 ; Sol- 
diers' Relief Society, 30 ; Ladies' 



Industrial Relief Society, 31 ; 
personal appearance, traits, 
and portraits, 39-47, 229, 412 n. ; 
love Of art, 42, 47, 49, 50, 132, 148, 
249, 294, 296, 297 ; love of flow- 
ers, 48, 64, 90, 133, 138, 142, 152, 
153, 167, 261, 270, 271, 396, 444; 
love of music, 42, 415; love of 
nature, 42, 48, 49, 63, 141 ff. ; her 
letters and their character, xiv, 
47, 229 ; silver wedding, 176, 192- 
194 ; removal to New York, 19, 
177, 178, 205, 206; twenty-sev- 
enth wedding anniversary, 218 ; 
architectural taste, 412 n. ; 
planned Knollcrest, 412 n.; first 
visit to Europe and sojourn 
there (1875-76), 81-143; sojourn 
continued (1875-76), 144-175; sec- 
ond visit to Europe (1882-83), 
228-312 ; third visit to Europe 
(1890), 349; fourth visit to Eu- 
rope (1891), 351 ff.; fifth visit to 
Europe (1892), 362; life in Eu- 
rope (1890-93), 349-389; sixth 
visit to Europe (1896), 407; vis- 
it to World's Fair, Alaska, and 
California (1893), 390-405 ; life at 
Leafland, 16-176; life in St. 
Louis, 176-204; life in New York, 
205, 206-228, 313-347 ; life in New 
York and at Knollcrest (1893- 
98), 406-455; life at Knollcrest 
(1896-97), 428 ff., 433 ff.; letters to 
various persons: Mrs. Bills, 
see Bills, Mrs. ; Annie Dillon, 
see Dillon, Annie Price; Hi- 
ram P. Dillon, see Dillon, Hi- 
ram Price ; John F. Dillon II, 
see Dillon, John F., II; John M. 
Dillon, see Dillon, John Milton; 
Susie B. Dillon, see Dillon, Su- 
sie Brown; Susie M. Dillon, see 
Dillon, Susie M.; Miss Fejer- 
vary, see Fejervary, Miss; Mrs. 
Abbie Filley, see Filley, Mrs. 
Abbie R.; Mollie Graham, see 
Graham, Mollie ; her husband, 
see Dillon, John F.; Mrs. Anna 
Lord, see Lord, Anna Graham, 
Mrs.; Mrs. McCullough, see Mc- 
Cullough, Mrs.; Mrs. Phelps, 
see Phelps, Mrs.; Hiram Price, 
see Price, Hiram ; Mary Price, 
see Price, Mary von T., Mrs.; 
Susie D. Price, see Price, Susie 
D. ; Mrs. Silsbee, see Silsbee, 
Mrs.; Mary Reed Smith, see 
Reed, Mary; Gerard Warriner, 
see Warriner, Gerard; Susie 
Warriner, see Dillon, Susie M.; 
Alice Wing, see Wing, Alice; 
George Wing, see Wing, George. 



484 



flnfces 



Dillon, Annie Price (daughter), 
25; school in Paris, 96; railway 
accident, 178 ; illness, 197, 201- 
204; cure at Schwalbach, 228, 
234, 235 ; visit to Wiesbaden, 236, 
237; life in Paris, 242-254 ; life in 
Mce, 255-276 ; references to, 42, 
165, 172, 194, 195, 197, 201, 203 ff., 
206, 215, 217, 218, 222, 227, 228, 231, 
234-241, 286-293, 296, 298-301, 303, 
309, 325, 336, 340, 342, 351, 358, 368, 
409, 410, 414, 423-425, 427, 431, 433, 
435, 438, 443, 449, 455, 473, 475 ; let- 
ters to, 293 n., 294 n., 340 

Dillon, Hiram Price (son), 16, 46, 
161, 163-165, 176, 210, 314, 434; let- 
ter to, 432 ; marriage, 176, 192, 
193, 194 

Dillon, John F., marriage, 14, 15 
ff. ; course of life and employ- 
ments, 36 ff. ; dedicates Yale 
Lectures to wife, 38, 351; lectures 
delivered in Iowa University, 
88; " Whiskey Cases," Babcock 
trial, 88 ; third volume Reports 
published,88; openingfirstterm 
court, Denver, 89, 174 ; call to 
Columbia College, New York, 
177 ; Greater New York charter, 
408 ; accident to, 444 ; letters to, 
147 ff., 153 ff., 167 ff., 230, 236, 239, 
241, 242, 244, 246, 248, 249, 251, 253- 
255, 258-262, 264, 267-269, 272, 275- 
278, 280, 281, 284, 286, 287, 290, 292, 
295, 298, 300-302, 305-308, 310, 322, 
332, 333 ff., 335, 336, 339, 342 ff., 
352-357, 363, 374, 375-381, 383 ff., 
388 ff., 447 ff.; letters from, 182, 
202, 291 n., 412 n., 453 n. 

Dillon, John F., II, 320, 325 ff., 
354-356; letters to, 331, 410 

Dillon, John Milton (son), visit to 
General Grant, 82; illness in 
Rome, 148, 150, 152, 155-157, 159, 
162 ; letters from, 182 n., 369 n., 
385 n.; marriage, 350, 359, 369, 
371, 373, 374 ; letters to, 319, 324, 
330, 344-346 ff., 371; daughter's 
death, 407, 422; references to, 
42, 107, 134, 149, 154, 160, 163, 164, 
168, 172, 181, 182, 190, 191, 198, 212, 
221, 222, 242, 246-249, 251, 256, 259- 
261, 264, 272, 273, 303, 306, 307, 310, 
314, 318, 319, 321,326, 335, 343, 351, 
353, 356, 357, 381, 385, 386, 394, 397, 
405, 431 

Dillon, John M., Mrs.. 350, 351, 
371, 382 

Dillon, Susie Brown, marriage, 
176, 192, 193, 194, 210, 347, 355-358; 
letters to, 440, 445 

Dillon, Susie M. (daughter), school 
in Paris, 96 ; marriage, 407, 423- 



426; references to, 72, 165, 172, 
185, 194, 197, 212, 217, 222, 236, 241, 
258, 260, 267, 269, 270, 273, 295, 315, 
318, 329, 335, 336, 350, 355, 358, 359, 
365, 386, 414, 426, 435, 437 ; letters 
to, 428-431 

Downing, Lucy. See Dillon, Mrs. 
John M. 

Downing, Mrs., 405 

Dresden, 310, 350, 358 

Dryburgh Abbey, 91, 94, 109, 122 

Dublin, 84, 91, 94, 108, 118 

Dublin, New Hampshire, 316 

Edinburgh, visited, 84, 94, 108, 
119, 120 

Education, classmates, and 
schools, 11-13, 466-469 

Eliot, George, 73 

Eltville, 234- 

Ely, Mr. and Mrs. George W., 346 
n., 387 

England, visited, 85, 122 ; London, 
85, 88, 91, 94, 95, 109, 123, 124, 408 
York, 85, 122 ; Kenilworth, 88 
Stratford-on-Avon, 88,/168 ff. 
Leamington, 89 

Europe, first visit and sojourn 
(1875-76), 81, 143; sojourn con- 
tinued (1875-76), 144-175 ; second 
visit (1882-83), 228; third visit 
(1890), 349; fourth visit (1891), 
351 ; fifth visit (1892), 362 ; sixth 
Visit (1896), 407 

Exchange for Woman's Work, 32, 
219 

" FAERIE QUEENE," quoted, 22, 23 

Father's life and career, 2-5, 457 ff. 
Fejervary, Miss, 29, 52, 54; letters 

to, 55-80, 107, 130, 149 
Field, David Dudley, 98 
Field, Kate, 213 
Filley, Mrs. Abbie R., 409; letter 

to, 442 
Filley, Mrs. Chauncey I., 179 
Fitch, Judge, 343 
Fitch, Mr. and Mrs., 267, 269 
Florence, 88, 106, 111, 140, 153, 288, 

290 
Flowers, love of, 48, 64, 133, 142, 

152, 153, 167, 261, 270, 271, 396, 433, 

444 
Fontainebleau, 383 
Forrest, John, 465 
Four Mile Creek disaster, 178 
Foy, Mrs., 199 
France, visited, 95; Paris, see 

Paris 
Frankfort, 97, 106, 112, 358 
French, Alice, 34, 61 
Fuller, Chief Justice, Mrs., 317 



485 



flnfce£ 



GAMBETTA, 256, 260 

Gantt, Colonel and Mrs., xiv, 

179, 196, 240, 292, 297, 301 
Gascogne, steamer, accident to, 

350, 352, 354 ff. 
Geneva, 96, 104, 110, 128, 360, 370, 

371 
Genoa, 266, 276, 279 
Germany, visit to : Cologne, 112, 

234 ; Frankfort, 97, 106, 112, 358 ; 

Munich, 97, 106, 112 ; Stuttgart, 

97, 106, 1]2 
Giant's Causeway, 84, 91, 94, 118 
Gilbert, Mrs., 431 
Gilruth, Misses, 12, 13, 468 
Gladstone, Mr., 408 
Glasgow, 84, 94, 118 
Glasnevin Cemetery, 94 
Glenwood, 397, 400, 403 
Goddard, Mrs., 246, 252, 253, 265, 

277, 285, 302 
Graham, Mrs., death of, 334 
Graham, Mollie, letters to, 424, 

437, 441 
Grant, Judge, 190 
Grant, President, visit to, 82-84 
Greer, Rev. Dr., 28, 455, 472 
Griffith, J. M., 283 
" Gyp," 293, 294, 301 

Hague, The, Law Reform Con- 
gress attended, 97-100, 112 

Hahnemann Hospital, 32, 315 

Hannen, Sir James, 245 

Hawthorne, 148, 150, 151 

Heidelberg, 112, 132, 168 

Hiawatha, vessel, 475, 478 

Hills, Mrs., 92, 106, 114, 115, 188, 
216 

Hilton, Mrs. Henry, 355 

Hirschl, family, 308, 342 

Hirschl, Jackson, 252 

Hogan, Mrs., 293, 294 

Holland, visit to : The Hague, Am- 
sterdam, 97-100, 112 

Hollidaysburg, 316, 462 

Holmes, Mrs. M. M., 350, 364, 365, 
409 

Homburg, 350, 356, 358 

Home, ideal of, 22 ff. ; motto on 
mantel, 23 

Homes, various, 15 ; Davenport, 
16; Leafland, 16, 18, 171; New 
York city, 19, 178, 207 ; Sara- 
toga, 19 ; Knollcrest, 19, 207 

Hospital, Mercy, 181; Reverend 
Mother, 181, 190, 198 

Households, 26 

Hubbard, Mrs. Harry, 371, 372 

Hubbell, Mrs., 66 

INTERLAKEN, 97, 105,110, 129 
Inversnaid, 84 



Iowa, removal to, 10, 463 

Ireland, visited, 84; Belfast, 84, 94, 
118; Blarney Castle, 90, 93; Cork, 
84, 90, 93, 108; Dublin, 94, 118; 
Giant's Causeway, 94, 118 ; Kil- 
larney, 84, 91, 94, 108, 118 

Italy, visited, 266-300; Bellaggio, 
300; Castellamare, 88, 153, 154, 
159 ; Florence, 88, ill, 153 ; Gen- 
oa, 266, 276, 279 ; Milan, 97, 105, 
106, 111, 298 ; Naples, 88, 153, 159, 
277, 284; Pompeii, 88, 154, 160, 
278 ; Rome, 69, 88, 144 ff., 158, 159, 
286, 287; Sorrento, 88, 156, 160, 
279-284, 288; Venice, 106, 140, 
298 ; Verona, 106, 112 ; Vesuvius, 
154 ff., 160, 279 

Ivy, love of, 48, 90, 133, 138, 142 

Johnson, Dr., xv, 44, 54 
Jones, Misses, 11, 468 
Jungfrau, 129, 140 

Kaueman, Mrs., xiv, 41, 47, 314, 

321 ; visited, 391, 402 
Kemp, Mrs., 240, 307 
Kenilworth, 88, 168 
Kew Gardens, 109 
Killarney, 84, 91, 94, 108, 118 
Kirby, Mrs., 236 
Knollcrest, 19-22, 207, 407, 409, 412, 

424; library addition, 407, 409, 

433, 434; fondness for, 413, 419, 

427, 433, 438, 444, 453 
Kraus, Dr., 306 
Kuhnhardt, Mr., 446 

Lane, Mrs., 33 

Langenbeck, Dr., 229, 237, 239, 241, 
242 

Las Vegas, 315 

Leafland, 16, 18, 78, 82, 169, 176; 
sale of, 177, 194 ; silver wedding 
celebrated, 176, 192-194; refer- 
ences to, 244, 334, 444 ; in ruins, 
visited, 344, 395 

Leamington, 89 

Lee, Admiral, 196 

Leech, Mr. and Mrs., 350 

Leghorn, 276, 279 

Lenox, 324 

Letters, her, general character, 
xiv, 47, 229 

Library Association(Davenport) , 
work in, 33, 35, 79, 101, 201, 470 

Lincoln, 391-394, 396, 404 

Lincoln, Abraham, eulogium by 
Castelar. See Castelar 

Lindabury, Mrs., 21, 409 

Lindley, Judge, 187 

Littlejohn, Bishop, 273 

Liverpool, 408 

Logan, General, 82, 83 



486 



•ffnfcq: 



Lomond, Lake, 118 

London, visited, 85, 88, 91, 94, 109, 

123, 124, 408 • 
Longfellow's " The Rainy Day," 

quoted, 157 
Lord, Anna Graham, Mrs., 221, 334 
LOS Angeles, 15, 26, 313, 314, 319- 

322 
Lowell, James Russell, quoted, 

xiv. 
Lucerne, 97, 105, 110, 300, 408 

Macaulat, quoted, xv 

McCullough, Mrs., 52; letters 
to, 93, 117, 134, 157 ff., 179 ff., 184 
ff., 189 ff., 191 ff., 195-204, 208, 
213, 214, 217, 218, 225, 231, 243, 257, 
274, 279, 288, 312, 317 ff., 323, 325, 
326 ; death of, 315, 327 ff. 

Macdonald, George, 43, 65, 66, 118, 
141 

McFarland, Miss, 449 

McManus, Ellen and Fanny, 12, 
17, 467 

McPherson, Mrs., 261, 315, 318 

" Marble Faun," 148 

Marquette, 211 

Marriage, 14, 15 

Martin, H. M., Mrs., 193, 252 

Mary Queen of Scots, 94, 108, 119 

Mayence, 112, 241 

Mediterranean, 258, 279, 280, 284 

Melrose Abbey, 85, 94, 120, 121 

Memorial services, 455, 471-473 

Mentone, 273 

" Middlemarch." See Eliot, 
George 

Milan. See Italy 

Mill, John Stuart, 39 

Miller, Justice, Mr., 201 

Monaco, 260 

Mont Blanc, 97, 128 

Monte Carlo, 275 

Monterey, 391, 399, 401 

Morgan, ex-Governor, 284 

Mosher, Mrs., 431 

Mount Vernon Association, 51 

Muckross Abbey, 108 

Munich, visited, 97, 106, 112 

Munroe, John, 277, 356 

Music, love of, 42, 415 

Naples, 88, 153, 159, 277, 284 

Narragansett Pier, 207, 214-217, 
223 

Nature, love of, 42, 48, 49, 63, 141 ff. 

Nauheim, 22, 410, 440, 443, 446 

New Mexico, 315, 316 

Newport, 218 

New York, removal to, 19, 177, 
178, 205, 206; life in (1879-82), 
206 ; (1883-89), 313-315, 322 



Nice, sojourn in, 229, 255-276 
Nuremberg, 376, 384, 408 



Oakdale Cemetery, 207, 315 

Ohio, early life in, 7, 462 

Old Point Comfort, visited, 316, 

332 ff. 
Omaha, 313, 390, 392, 394-396 
Organizations, charitable, work 

in, 30 
Ormiston, Mrs., 409 
Oxford, 408 

" Pageant," Whittiee's, 61 

Paris, visit to, and sojourn, 14, 
85, 88, 95, 96, 125-127 ; life de- 
scribed, 102, 103, 109, 130 ff., 
156, 353-357, 408 

Pasadena Valley, 314 

Patriotism, 50, 51, 95 

Peck, Mrs., 33, 166 

Pennsylvania, early life in, 5, 8 

Perry, John, 452, 478 

Perry, W. C, 478-480 

Phelps, Mrs., 359, 361 

Philadelphia, 170 ff. 

Pisa, 276 

Pollak, Mrs., 179, 196, 406 

Pompeii, 88, 154, 160, 278 

Portland, Oregon, 399 

Port Rush, 84 

Powers, Hiram, 69 

Prescott, Mr., 467 

Prescott, Mrs., 11, 467 

Price, Anna Bradley (Mrs. M. M. 
Price), 23, 24, 440 

Price, Anna Margery. See Dil- 
lon, Anna Price 

Price, Hiram (father), life and 
career, 1-5, 457; marriage, 4; 
children of, 1, 2 ; letters to, 386, 
389, 393 ff., 398, 401, 446; letters 
to his daughter, Mrs. Dillon, 458- 
461, 463 ; references to, 5-8, 10, 
359-361, 411, 412, 420, 457-466, 471 

Price, Louisa, 2, 23, 67, 206, 223- 
225. See Sully, Mrs. 

Price, Mary. See Collier, Mary 
Price, 2, 7, 23, 73, 207, 462 

Price, Mary von T., Mrs., letters 
to, 324, 338 ff., 364, 366 ff, 370 ff, 
373 ff, 382, 392, 395 ff., 399, 402 

Price, Milton M., 1, 23, 24, 27, 462 

Price, Susan Betts (mother), 2, 4, 
315, 321, 462, 463 

Price, Susie D., 23, 24, 134, 223, 312, 
315, 320, 329, 331, 337, 338, 382, 429, 
432 ; letter to, 439. See Sterling, 
Mrs. Theodore W. 

Price, William H., Mr. and Mrs., 
2, 268, 384, 403 n. 

Prout, Father, 108 



487 



Unfces 



Putnam, Duncan, 62, 114, 172, 236 
Putnam, Mrs., 17, 77, 114, 172 

QUEENSTOWN, 108, 117, 232 

Ramona Indian School, visited, 

316 

Ranney, Dr., 273, 285 

Reed, Anna, 12 ; letter from, 466. 
See Wilkinson, Mrs. 

Reed, Mary, 12, 302, 304, 466 ; let- 
ters to, 327 , 360. See Smith, Mrs. 
Frank 

Reed, Rev. Julius A., 466 

Reid, Hugh T., 266, 310 

Reid, Mrs. Hugh T., 242, 279 

Religious views, 27-30, 196, 197 

Renwick, Mr. and Mrs., 88, 137, 
154, 155 

Ripley, George, 213 

Rogers, Harriet, 137, 436, 439 

Rome, 69, 88 ; visit to, 144-153, 158, 
159, 286, 287 

Rose, Judge U. M., 407 

Rouen, 85, 95, 125 

Ruskin, John, 111 

St. Bartholomew's, Church 

OF, 32 

St. Bernard's, Church of, 29, 470, 
472 

St. Louis, 18; first and second 
winter in (1877-79), 176; social 
life, 179-187, 196-200; revisited, 
406 

St. Mark's Church, 297-299 

St. Moritz, 97, 105, 110 

St. Ouen, Church of, 95 

St. Peter's, 151, 158 

Salt Lake City, 391, 394, 396 

San Francisco, 391, 399 

Santa Fe\ 316 

Santa Monica, 314 

Saratoga, home in, 19, 315, 316, 
323, 324, 335-344, 411 

Schley, Grant B., Mrs., 21 

Schley, Mary Reeve, Mrs., 21, 
446 n. 

Schools, classmates, and educa- 
tion, 11-14, 466-469 

Schwalbach, visited, 228; baths 
and cure, 234, 235, 271 

Scotland, visited, 84 ff., 94, 108, 
121 

Scott, Sir Walter, 119, 121, 122 

Seabright, 314, 322 

Seattle, 397 

Silsbee, Mrs., 52, 391, 396; letters 
to, 89, 102, 113, 144 ff., 161 ff., 170, 
173, 182 ff, 187 ff, 192 ff, 205, 215, 
226, 235, 271, 303, 311, 328 

Smedley, Mrs. William T. See 
Darling, May 



Smith, Mrs. Frank, 34, 61. See 

Reed, Mary 
Smith, S. Frank, 61, 88, 105, 137, 466 
Sorrento, 88, 156, 160, 279-284, 288 
Stanley, Dean, 123 
Sterling, Mrs. Theodore W., 223, 

315, 316, 386, 439. See Price, 
Susie D. 

Sterling, Theodore W., 339, 375, 384 
Sterling, Theodore W., Jr., 375, 

399, 430 
Stirling, 84 
Stirling Castle, 108 
Stockbridge, 324 
Stoughton, Mr. and Mrs., 84, 249 
Strasburg, visited, 241; cathedral, 

75 
Stratford-on-Avon, 88, 168 ff. 
Stuttgart, 97, 106, 112 
Sudlow, Miss, 33 
Sully. Louisa Price, Mrs., 2, 23, 67 

206, 223-225. See Price, Louisa 
Switzerland, visited, 96; Bern, 

97, 105, 110, 129 ; Chillon, 96, 104 ; 

Geneva, 96, 104, 110, 128, 360, 370, 

371 ; Interlaken, 97, 105, 110, 129 ; 

Lucerne, 97, 105, 110, 300, 408; 

Mont Blanc, 97, 128 ; St. Moritz, 

97, 105, 110 ; Zurich, 300 

TACOMA, 391, 395, 398 

Talot, Mme. See Daughters, in 

Paris schools 
Taylor, Bayard, 63 
Taylor, Rev. Landon, 14, 320 
Tennyson, dedication to wife, 39 

n. ; quoted, 39, 48 
Thanet, Octave, 61 n. 
Thorington, James, 11 
Topeka, 89, 182, 201, 206, 215, 315, 

316, 325, 326, 329 ff, 344 
Treat, Judge, Mrs., 179, 180 

Van Vorst, Judge, 346 
Vatican, 151, 290. See Rome 
Venice, 106, 140, 298 
Verona, 106, 112 
Versailles, 47, 128 
Vesuvius, 154 ff., 160, 279 
Victoria, B. C, 397, 398 
Victoria regia. See Kew Gardens 
Vienna, visited, 308, 342 
Volkmann, Dr., 262, 263, 267 

Wadsworth, Mrs., 33, 34, 92, 101, 
135, 188, 216 

Wallace, H. B., 75 

Warden, Mr. and Mrs., 287 

Warder, Mr. and Mrs., 376 

Ware, Margery, 302 

Ware, Mrs., 179, 247, 260, 302, 406 

Warriner, Gerard, Mrs. See Dil- 
lon, Susie M. 



488 



Unbes 



Warriner, Gerard, 407, 423, 426, 

428, 435, 437 
Warwick Castle, 168 
Washington, visit to, 82 ff., 209, 

210, 212 
Wedding, silver, 176, 192-194; 

twenty- seventh anniversary, 

218 
Westminster Abbey, 109, 123 
Westminster Hall, 124 
Wheeler, Eleanor, 331 
Wheeler, Mrs., 331 
White Mountains, 207 
Whitman, 317 
Whitney, Mr. and Mrs. J. Parker, 

400, 414 
Whittier's " Pageant," 61 
Wiesbaden, visited, 235, 240 ;icourse 

of life at, 237, 271 



Wilkinson, Mrs., 12, 466 

Wilson, Hattie, 449 

Wing, Alice, 302, 404, 413, 417, 419 ; 
letters to, 414, 415, 418, 421 

Wing, George, letter to, 417 

Wing, Mrs., xiv, 34, 143, 302, 326, 
329, 393, 396, 404, 405; death of, 
407, 413, 415, 417, 418, 420 

" Wisey." See Sully, Mrs. 

Woodward, Augusta, 13 

Woodward, Mrs., 33 

World's Fair, 390 

Yale Lectures, 38, 351 
Ye well, George H., 407 
York, cathedral of, 122 

Zurich, 300 




489 



This edition of the foregoing Memoir and Memorials 
consists of three hundred copies, printed by The 
De Vinne Press, of which this copy is No. 

Copies have been placed with the various libraries, asso- 
ciations, and institutions with which Mrs. Dillon was 
connected, and the rest have been distributed among 
her family, kindred, and friends. 



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